Shutdown
by fetch-thranduilion
Summary: Continuation. The Celestials abandon Magnagalia, trapping Daisuke in a dying city. Luckily Kyoko, Clair, Monica, J, Shun, Giovanni, and Boma are on the way...but is the situation really what it seems? NaNoWriMo 2006. Complete.
1. Trapped, Winner

**Heat Guy J: Shutdown**

a continuation fiction by fetch-thranduilion

all characters, places, etc. © their original owners

**Episode 1: Trapped (Winner)**

Spotless and dazzling as the room in which she sat, the ash-blond-haired woman bent her head, deep in thought and uneasy in her chair. Conflicting notions flitted across her face—concern, vexation, contemplation—with no clear victor in sight. Pinning her bottom lip between her teeth, she bit down gently; around her, her standing colleagues flinched. It had been years since her return, yet most of them had yet to adjust to the mannerisms their peer had acquired during her long absence. The change in mindset—from wild rebel to polished, perfect citizen—was widely welcomed. If only she weren't still so eccentric...

Shadows hid in her luminous eyes, nestled among her lashes and cast a pall over her flawless face. Before those eyes, visions danced in all their ethereal horror, memories of the sights she had accidentally born witness to during her tour of the city at which the transport currently docked. The howls of the condemned echoed in her ears accusingly; their wild eyes bored holes through a soul childish in its innocence and ignorance. How long had the people treated their prisoners thusly? How long had her people been blinded by the very individuals they had thought trusted them entirely? She, of all people, ought to have known better than to assume such atrocities could not possibly exist under her people's jurisdiction. Hadn't she wanted to see what life as one of _them_ was like? And hadn't she decided to forsake it?

Sighing and shaking her head, sending her curtain of hair rippling and swinging gracefully, she wondered exactly how things had gotten this bad, how she had become responsible for such decisions—she, who detested the idea of being fettered down. Life had grown stale in the city, so she returned home and dedicated herself with new vigor to her duties. Her bright mind, applied to useful tasks for once instead of fanciful dreamings, carried her upward on pearly wings. But now her wings were tired. She wanted out. The stakes had grown too tall, and she wanted them uprooted. At their current height, they trapped her.

Coming down to the root of the problem, there really was no decision to be made and every single member of the delegation knew it. But it gnawed at them, and each wished another the privilege of voicing the judgment. Naturally, the task had fallen to her. Didn't it always? By virtue of her very uniqueness, the grotesque when uttered from her mouth became almost acceptable; her conscience could remain clean, for the pronunciations of a silly child were not to be held against them. Best to get it over with, then.

She smiled up at the eleven, equally beautiful people surrounding her, but no mirth lurked at the corners of her usually impish mouth. "I have decided, then. They cannot be forgiven."

"No, they cannot." One by one the others murmured their consent, hearts aching but knowing their duty. Then they fell silent again, looking at her. She understood.

"I shall make the announcement, then." Standing, she caught a glimpse of her pale, drawn face in the windows—a face much more used to laughing than condemning. For a brief moment, thinking of all the lives who would suffer for the sins of their city, she remembered the near-disaster of the previous year. No such last-minute salvation, she predicted, would come to these citizens. Their city was rotten, and they would learn too late their duties.

The city that had almost fallen...it had been "her" city, hadn't it? Had her children watched as their world nearly crumbled around them? And her brother...he had vanished there as well. Why hadn't he spoken up?

But she almost never thought of them anymore, and in a moment they too had vanished to the airy depths of her mind. Soon all troubling thoughts would be beyond her, and she would be sailing away to paradise once more. That at least was something to be thankful for: no matter how unpleasant the observational tours became, they always ended. There was always home, waiting.

It did not occur to her, as she began to speak into the device that would project her voice across the doomed metropolis, that her actions were also taking a home away. That her actions had always done so, and would continue to do so as long as her own anchored her down and distracted her mind. Such speculation was not becoming to one such as she. After all, she and her people were on a Mission. They could not possibly be wrong.

o0o0o0o0o0o

"...the unspeakable crimes committed by the people of Magnagalia upon their own citizens through the perversions of science will not be tolerated..."

Groaning, the young man kept his curly blond head planted stubbornly in his pillow and, swatting with one hand, tried to switch his radio off. But no matter how firmly he pounded the offending object, the voice continued. Finally sleep retreated from his mind, taking with it the mess of cobwebs muddling his thoughts, and he came to understand that the voice came not from the hotel radio but from some projected speaker outside the building. Tossing off his covers, he wandered over to the window and yanked the curtains apart.

Sunlight burst in, causing his light green eyes to blink and water; squeezing them half-shut, he gazed blearily out. The voice finished its recitations just as he woke entirely.

"...will be shut down in forty-eight hours unless the citizens of Magnagalia present us with a plan of alternate action to be put into effect immediately." Then the city was silent. Deathly so.

"Damn," the young man wondered aloud, shaking his head. "Not again. Guess they found out about the prisoners." The alterations performed in Magnagalian prisons appalled him too, but he hadn't figured that the citizens would be punished by the Celestials _that_ severely. All the more reason for him to go home today, then. His visa had expired two days ago, but he had tarried in the city, reluctant to return to work just yet when there were still so many places to explore; but if Judoh was about to be swamped with frantic refugees, then they had better get fair warning. He felt awful about the fate of the city, though. To deprive everyone because of the decisions of a few...he understood the need for justice, but Celestial justice tended towards the extreme. There was always the hope the alternate plan presented, however. He wished he'd been awake enough to have heard the whole message. Something about the voice had distracted him, jolted his memory...

Realizing what, he sat down heavily on the hotel bed, hand groping for a memento that no longer hung around his neck. Catching himself in the action, he dropped both arms into his lap. What were the odds? He visited a city, only to find it undergoing inspection. Only to encounter...

"Well, well," he marveled, smiling crookedly. "Long time no see, Mom." Then, pulling on his shirt and jacket and stuffing his feet into tan boots, the young man swaggered out of his hotel room. He left his bags, but he did not return.

O0o0o0o0o0o

Raising his punch glass in a toast, the dark-haired boy fidgeted in his itchy tuxedo and cast a derisive yet eager glance around the room. Of all the officials in the gathering, he at barely twenty years of age was by far the youngest; but his youth was not the reason why no one would meet his eerily violet eyes. No one knew why the young head of Company Vita had been invited to the new head of Shop Echigo's celebratory reception save that Vita held Echigo stock, and no one trusted him. Even after the events a year ago, gratefulness only went so far.

"...and it is with the greatest pleasure that I drink to you, Dominic Jomas, new head of Shop Echigo. To Echigo!" The head of state, proposing the toast, was himself newly appointed. He still remembered with fondness his own induction, and—casting a surreptitious glance at the boy standing by the punch bowl—with considerably less nostalgia what had happened immediately afterwards. Now, watching the boy and the tall man next to him share a smile, the same shivers skittered down his backbone. They were planning something, the boy and his henchman. But what?

"To Echigo!" he declared again, raising his glass high; around the room, the officials of Judoh mimicked the movement and cry, then drained their punch glasses.

Over by the bowl, the pair clinked glasses. "To Echigo," the boy smirked, taking a deep draught of his punch, then carefully wiping off the outside of the glass; he'd cut his thumb earlier and hadn't yet had time to wrap the injury.

His bodyguard grinned and nodded at his master before drinking his punch. "To Echigo, Vampire. And long may he serve."

The boy smiled, licked a bead of blood off his wounded finger. Around the room, the highest officials of Judoh finished their punch. Excellent. "Believe me, Giovanni. I intend to."

o0o0o0o0o0o

"So they stayed the whole night but did nothing?" Kyoko Milchan barely glanced at the small girl sitting on the couch before turning back to her own typing, sequestered as always behind her desk. The Special Unit's office had been repaired admirably, with most everything put back into place as it had been prior to the explosion. Indeed, already most of Judoh had recovered surprisingly well from the attempted coup d'etat and the following economic recession, as the largest provider of consumer goods in the city, Shop Echigo, reeled in the lost of its reclusive leader—actually long dead but only recently discovered as such. Now a new head of state had been voted on, a new head of Echigo had been appointed...and the underworld, apparently, had just sat back and let it happen. Didn't the upheaval within the government affect their business as well?

For her part, the girl sitting on the couch toying with one of her messy, shockingly copper braids seemed unconcerned with the activity of men working below the law. "They just stood around and talked. They stared at people and got stared at, too. And they let me take their picture!" This, at least, was a point of interest for the child. "They paid a lot for it, too! More than double the price I was asking at the door! I didn't get a picture of the new head of Echigo, though." Her face fell. "I could have made prints and sold those for a lot."

"So the new wagon is working?" Kyoko started a new report on her screen entitled "Special Unit Surveillance Progress: Monica Gabriel, Information." "People still talk to you?"

"Oh, yes, lots!" She bounced a bit on the cushion. "Most are really happy that Mom is feeling better and that we don't have to live in the wagon anymore, but it's still almost always just the two of us in the apartment. Edmundo's always at the stupid station."

"And did you hear anything of interest for the Special Unit?" The pink-haired young woman's pristinely manicured nails clicked against her keyboard as she worked away.

"Well...Shogun's place is open again, Wei Long-lin opened another hotel, and lots and lots of people wanted to know when Daisuke's coming back. I want to know too." She pouted, making red spots appear on both cheeks as her face flushed. "But no one ever knows anything."

"It's only been a year," Kyoko replied softly, hands falling idle as her eyelids drooped gravely. "He has two more."

"Two more till what??" Hopping off the couch, the girl put both hands on her hips and, leaning over, scowled at the secretary. "What do you know, Kyoko? Tell me, tell me!"

"A man keeps all promises made to those he loves," a gravelly voice contributed from the far corner. "Daisuke will return."

Both women sighed and regarded the tall, solidly built figure standing sentinel by the door with affectionate exasperation. "Easy for you to say," the younger huffed; Kyoko shook her head to clear it of—certain distractions—and turned back to her work. Then, puzzled, she looked up.

"Wait a minute. Monica, you said the Weis opened a new hotel?"

"Yeah, a real posh one with three swimming pools and four tennis courts and a bar in every room and--"

"Didn't they have a lot of money from Vita that they lost after Dai saved Clair?"

"Over a hundred bars of gold originally alloted to the Wei family were turned over to charity," the man in the corner reported, golden eyes focusing on numbers and charts only he could see. "Estimated losses incalculable but significant."

"Yet he's starting something new." Kyoko's polished lips drooped in a pondering frown. "That might be worth looking into."

"Who are you gonna send, though?" Returning to the couch, the girl flopped down on her stomach, short dress flipping up with the motion but ignorant of the view such a position presented to anyone entering the room. "Edmundo's busy with his other job and Boma..."

"Can never be found unless he wants to be," finished Kyoko tiredly, shoulders sagging. "I know. Plus the Weis know both of them." No one had said that running the office would be easy. She had known going into the venture that with Daisuke, the chief (and for a long time only) operative indefinitely away, the chances of the Unit actually serving its purpose were slim if they indeed existed at all. But after all that had happened, all that the Unit had achieved...her own pride if nothing else prevented her from letting the ragtag band be dissolved in the face of the new government. "We could call Kia, that boy Daisuke recommended, but who's to say if he's reliable?"

"I could go," the girl offered, counting out the coins in the purse around her neck. "I have enough for cab fare right now. But you'd have to pay me back. With interest."

"There is another option yet to be processed," the man in the corner replied before Kyoko had finished opening her mouth to decline the girl's generous offer. "The East Wind, according to Monica, is open again. It is logical to assume that Shogun continues to operate in his original position, especially after the Gazaardoll success in the last conflict."

"So we ask the man who knows everyone if he'll help us out," mused Kyoko thoughtfully, hand straying to the silver charm around her neck. "He might know about...other people too." She did not bring up the name. Everyone in the room knew who she meant.

o0o0o0o0o0o

"Aw, come on, Officer, what's two days in the grand scheme of things?" The young man scratched his blond hair in a helpless gesture, grinning widely at the dour patrolman perusing his expired travel visa. It was bad phrasing on his part in light of recent events, which he realized too late. "I mean, I'm hurrying back to Judoh to get help since we only have two days."

"Nice try," grunted the policeman, but his mind obviously wasn't on the now-illegal alien he'd accosted for speeding on the Magnagalian freeway. The blond man understood: threatened with the slow extinction of everything and everyone in the city, the force had engaged in almost frantic denial, trying desperately to prove its competence by apprehending anyone who put a toe out of line. Some things, no matter where you lived, stayed the same. The paranoia of the law force was apparently one of them. "Two days won't get you to Judoh, kid. Takes at least a week." He said it heavily, resignedly. The hope those two days provided in the form of alternate legislation seemed thought to be slim.

The boy smiled. "You'd be surprised what I can do. Now look, you've got more important things to be doing and so have I. You can't honestly arrest somebody and export them when they were on their way out already. It's doing the same damn thing with more paperwork. And who wants more of that?"

"Rules are rules, kid," the policeman said, clapping handcuffs on the boy and taking another look at the visa. "You're practically a child. Run away from home?"

"Funny you should say that," the boy laughed. "Part of my home's on that Celestial ship. I thought about going over to say hi, putting in a good word for you—anything to help--"

But the man's eyes were bugging out. "Y-you're a Celest--"

"Only half," the young man admitted. "For what that's worth."

Apparently it was worth with quite a bit. Sputtering and staring at the young man's cocky face, the uniformed man finally regained his composure and turned a knob on the handcuffs. The boy laughed nervously.

"Turning the shockers on? I'm not going to try to get out, you don't have to--"

"Get in," the man ordered, pushing the young man into his armored car. "And no funny business. They'll think twice about pulling the plug on us if one of their own's in trouble."

"Actually, they'll yank it faster, but--"

"Shut your mouth!" The man revved up his vehicle and sped down the road at nearly twice the velocity for which he had apprehended the young man. Sighing, the blond looked forlornly out the window at where his parked motorbike receded from view. He gave it a small salute.

"See you round," he bid it ruefully, then turned around again. And this was supposed to be a quiet, interesting leave of absence. So much for intentions.

o0o0o0o0o0o

Sometime during the night the maids had removed the hateful tuxedo from where he'd tossed it in a crumpled ball on the bedroom floor; he wasn't sure how he felt about the fact his room was accessible while he was sleeping, and decided to look into changing his locks. For the time being, the dark-haired young man, cut thumb now sterilized and wrapped, lay motionless on his bed, mind restlessly wandering across the past year of his life and finding not much to be agitated about.

Game after game, the pieces had fallen into place, the roulette had picked his number, and the various strata of Judoh society—both legal and otherwise--into which he'd forced his fingers had responded to his prodding as desired. In an effort to promote fuller democracy, the people had elected in the wake of "Dictator Aurora", as the orchestrator of both sides of last year's coup had deemed himself, a pleasant but weak-willed middle-aged man by the name of Morton Tawari. Getting him to move most of his stock into funds controlled by Company Vita had been simple enough. Two well-placed faulty explosives, one well-timed casual conversation with his young children, and Chairman Tawari had buckled under the supposed threat. It would make him a wealthy man, no matter how soiled the man's conscience may have felt. Clair Leonelli was nothing, in his own opinion, if not fair. Services rendered were repaid in kind.

Playing with the small silver ring protruding from his lower lip, Clair frowned at the drapes above his bed. Yes, getting Tawari had been easy enough. Getting Jomas had been even easier—unlike Tawari, the businessman held no scruples regarding exactly whence came his living expenses. Had he been an honest man, after all, he would not have survived in such a company; the only reason the Shop was never called into court was that, in many ways, the conglomerate held Judoh's consumer economy together. If Shop Echigo fell, Judoh would fall. The city had become dependent on its shadow fixer to preserve the delicate balance between light and darkness. And its new head—its true new leader—had every reason to maintain that balance.

So cuts from Echigo would go to Vita, cuts from Vita would go to the board, and thus the board wouldn't rebel again. A perfect arrangement. Game over...or rather, game indefinitely sustained, but with Clair Leonelli as the constant winner. Last night had been the final gamble, a statement he hadn't needed to make but no one had noticed anyway. Yet that was alright with Clair. It was more fun that way. Now every time he would see their faces in the news, heard them condemning his company, he would know and they would not that they had sworn...

Even his thoughts broke off as he giggled madly, slender body shaking the bed as his shoulders buckled with mirth. He heard the thunder of footsteps in the hall, knew before the door burst open who would be arriving, and decided once and for all to hire a locksmith.

"Young Master!" Panting for breath, his aging body not accustomed to the strain of running, Clair's assistant Mauro leaned on the tall wooden bedpost and appraised his superior over tiny tinted glasses. "Are you alright?"

"Master Clair!" Giovanni, the tall dark-haired man who had toasted Clair the previous evening, entered hot on Mauro's heels. Seeing sooner than the aged advisor that nothing was wrong, he crossed his arms in front of his torso and shook his head almost reprovingly at his Vampire. Other men would have been reproached at the very least for such a slight, but Clair let Giovanni scold him for making a scene. The pair had...well, they had been through a lot together, and Clair had come to trust the tall man more than he even trusted himself.

Getting them both so worked up over absolutely nothing made Clair laugh even harder. Sitting up in bed, he clutched his heaving chest and doubled over in glee until, gasping for breath, his stamina ran out and he shakily lay bent in half, still grinning like a maniac. He had figured out the problem, determined what exactly had gone wrong in his life, what blemish had cast itself upon his otherwise perfect dealings with the world at large. It was so simple, really, the cause of the distress nagging at his mind. He didn't know why it hadn't occurred to him sooner—say, at the party last night, which had confirmed it. No one had approached him suspiciously, no man had flashed a badge at him and required to know his connection to the festivity. Even the Special Unit girl, though no doubt there in part to investigate, hadn't seemed to notice anything odd. He'd even let her take his picture in the suppressed hope that then something would happen...but nothing did. Now that he'd finally achieved success, _this_ was his reaction? Clair was disappointed in himself. All that hard work for the same results as before? Pathetic.

"I don't suppose," he gasped, trying to regain his composure as his mood shifted in gravity, "that Daisuke Aurora's come back."

Obviously befuddled by this follow-up to the laughing fit, Mauro shook his wizened, worried head. "No word has reached us, Young Master. Has something happened?"

Clair shook his own head in return, swinging his legs out of bed and standing; Giovanni fetched his bathrobe and helped him slide it on. "That's just the problem, Mauro. All this, and we've gotten completely away with it. No one's poking around or suspecting a thing. I could declare myself Dictator the way that idiot did last year and those monkeys on the Senate would just bob their heads and drink another transfusion to my success." He sighed, good mood now completely evaporated. "Someone better be investigating in secret, and they better make whatever they do next good. Because if things continue they way they're heading now, I'm going to end up unendurably bored."

o0o0o0o0o0o

News of Magnagalia's plight reached Judoh that very morning courtesy of a few illegal aliens with highly modified and enhanced radios, a day after the beautiful woman had gotten on the speaker and been heard by her wandering son. Remembering all too well the near-catastrophe they themselves had nearly undergone at the hands of the same guardians, the citizens of Judoh expressed their extreme distress at the plight of their Magnagalian brothers but made no move to assist them. Regardless of the extremity of their actions, Celestials were still Celestials, beings to be revered and awed, not understood. And after all, hadn't the Magnagalians had it coming to them for quite some time? All that nonsense about genetic manipulation, and giving the faces of beasts to human criminals...why, the act itself was ironically bestial and spiteful (not to mention a problem for Judoh when said criminals escaped and emigrated). Plus, and this was the greatest reason of all, no city-state could interfere with the affairs of another. All too often, such interaction led to war. So Judoh at large, while mourning the victims, extended no helping hand.

Certain individuals, however, reacted quite differently. Clair Leonelli heard the news over breakfast that morning and instantly thousands of possibilities sprang to his starved brain. Not the least among them involved the prolonged absence of a friend whose discovery would not only liven things up for him once more in Judoh, but also in the meantime provide a welcome diversion from his otherwise tedium lifestyle. Almost immediately, he locked himself in his office (the locksmith had indeed been summoned and only Giovanni given a key) and began making phone calls.

Kyoko Milchan heard it not on the television but from her grandfather as she headed out the door for work. She could not explain, had anyone asked her to, her initial reaction to the disaster: her hand jerked to the bullet pendant hanging around her neck and clasped it tight. Her foldable bicycle clattered to the floor as she absorbed what she'd been told and the absurdly paranoid notions dancing around it in her head. Thanking her grandfather, and giving him a small hug to try and alleviate the grim set of his usually smiling jaw, she retrieved her bike and hurried away, eager to get back to work and so hopefully banish the fears clenching her gut.

Monica Gabriel, the girl with the pigtails Kyoko had sent to the party, heard the news firsthand from the very radio that first picked it up, located in the basement of a newly renovated dry goods store known as "East Wind." She had come for information of a different kind, but upon bearing witness to the disturbing revelation thanked the owner and dashed off, suspicions already growing in her active mind. One phrase in particular caught and held her attention: "How the presence of a believed half-Celestial here in Magnagalia will affect the city's fate remains to be seen, but until the crisis is either averted or occurs no citizens are to enter or exit. For the protection of the Celestials, we shall remain in total lockdown."

It was too good to be an accident. And she knew just where to take things from there.

Wouldn't they pay her well for this!


	2. Suspect, Gather

**Episode 2: Suspect (Gather)**

Taking his glasses off and appraising the dirt smeared across them with a slightly perturbed frown, the man started to wipe them off on his tunic but soon realized the motion would do him precious little good. The garment itself, soiled by the day's work, was almost beyond salvaging. It made his skin prickle, even after a year, to be thus attired. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been presentable. Even his normally well-kept sheet of long blond hair had begun to mat of late.

He hadn't expected probationary tasks to be glamorous, but his impeccable taste still chafed against the harsh reality comprising his present life. No one understood better than he the natural human craving for revenge...but ordering his sentence to be carried out in the sanitation department? There was a fine line between retribution and sadism, and in his mind somebody somewhere had crossed it. The immaturity of his judges further rankled him, but he did have to admit their righteous indignation wasn't wholly unfounded. After all, hadn't they elected him into the leadership themselves? Of course they would want him to suffer comeuppance for duping them so thoroughly. It was the only balm they could apply to their bruised consciences.

The same salve could not be applied to his own wounded pride. He had to accept his fate with grace, burying stoically all anger and relying yet again on his logical mind alone. But the wound was still there, even if he admitted the futility of the venture in which he had acquired it. Nothing could change that.

So Shun Aurora, former (if short-lived) dictator of Judoh, suffered in silence among the refuse of the people he had sought to "save" from themselves while those he had sought to dominate slowly filled all the holes he had left in society. News of Dominic Jomas's appointment to the leadership of Shop Echigo had reached him, but already he had a fair idea of who would come to take control eventually. That company could never be controlled in the open, even by honest men. Nothing that big could ever function with all its aspects under public scrutiny. His number one hypothesis for the new brains behind the conglomerate made him seethe inside. Even if he himself had dealt with Vita in earlier days, they had fronted the resistance movement. That upstart punk had bested him with precious little more than the backing of an apparently invincible old man and his ragtag foreign followers. Humiliating.

Letting a wrinkle of frustration crease his carefully controlled brow, Shun dug his shovel further into the mound of trash assigned to him for the day. Political convicts sent to sanitation were usually sentenced work in the incinerators, but special offenders sorted through the trash first to ensure that nothing of importance slipped through by accident. The piles were double-checked; shifts within the disposal plant were assigned on a weekly basis. In the past year, Shun had been given second-check duty for 30 weeks. Though he performed the abominable task without complaint and to the fullest of his ability (abilities he felt were being squandered), he remained distrusted. Going into his punishment, he had wanted to believe that his brother was right and that humanity had it within themselves to forgive. That belief had yet to develop within him, try as he might. Old habits died hard. New habits that seemed to have no backing in the real world...well, those were doomed from the start.

It had become his custom to mull things over thusly as he worked, full mental capacity not being needed for his current task, and so the small girl standing behind him, pinching her nose against the stench of the garbage, had to shout several times before she got his attention.

"Hey! HEY! I'm talking to you! Daisuke's brother!"

She got through to him with that one. Shun turned, surprised to be addressed directly as an individual after a year at work as a body only. How the girl had gotten into the plant he hadn't the faintest idea, but now that she had he was intrigued to see what someone who knew Daisuke would possibly want with _him_. She seemed familiar, too...where did he know her from?

"May I help you?" he asked blandly, professional varnish returning almost immediately. She frowned, checked something printed on a crumpled stack of papers clenched tightly in her fist. Then, finding whatever she'd looked at to be satisfactory, she cut right to the point. "Daisuke's in trouble and I want you to come with me to help him," she informed him crossly, folding her skinny arms across an equally sticklike body.

Surprised, Shun blinked, then swept a cursory glance around their surroundings. The other workers, lost in their own thoughts, seemed to be paying no attention to the eccentric intruder; the supervisors were nowhere to be seen. "You've heard from Daisuke?" he asked simply, not wanting to give her any ideas as to his intentions at present. Primarily, he admitted wryly to himself, because even he wasn't certain what his intentions were exactly. Or, for that matter, hers. "Who are you?"

"Monica Gabriel," she replied sourly. "And I know enough. I know Daisuke's captured in Magnagalia and they're turning him over to the Celestials. Jeez! Like that'll help save their city!"

"Celestials?" Shun's head jerked up abruptly. "Save the city? What are you talking about?" The old administrative sternness returned all too easily to his tone. Perhaps men could not forgive others because men could not themselves change...

He cast another look around the garbage plant, getting the feeling he needed to have a longer conversation with this girl than his current surroundings would allow him. Taking one of her papers, he pulled a pen from his pocket (even in this most inglorious of occupations, he made a point of always being prepared) and scribbled down an address. "Here. Meet me here at sundown. Show the woman there my handwriting on this and tell her...tell her the beetle doesn't need to sting." He returned the paper to its original owner with the hint of an ironic smile. "Can you do that?"

"Of course I can," she objected, huffing. "I'm not a child, you know. But what am I supposed to do until sundown?"

"That's not my concern," Shun replied, and turned back to his trash pile. "No go before you're found and apprehended."

"Oh, they can't catch me," the girl responded, on her way out herself. "I'm Special Unit. I can get away with anything." Then, leaving Shun to ponder that statement alone, she skipped away, apparently satisfied with the results of the conversation. For his part, Shun merely shook his head, forced his mind to blank, and returned to protecting the city of Judoh one discarded carton after another. But he couldn't help awaiting sundown a bit more anxiously than usual. _Oh, Daisuke...what have you gotten yourself into...and what could you possibly need _me_ for?_

He tried not to be too pleased. But it didn't work very well.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

"Huh?" Kyoko, entering the Special Unit's office after her lunch break (a very pleasant affair, shared with her grandfather at a small cafe; he had successfully encouraged her not to worry too much about one certain individual in particular even if he did have plenty to say about the subject of nonintervention in general), blinked her bluegreen eyes in confusion and surprise.

"What, did a hurricane hit?" she muttered to herself, gaze shifting from her askew computer terminals to the files scattered all around her desk. Smartly she strode to her desk and began, mechanically, repairing the damage. "Jeez, I told them not to turn the fans up so high..."

"It was not a hurricane," reported the man in the corner, who had not moved from his post since their last conversation. "It was Monica. And you look cute as always, angel."

"Thank you, J," Kyoko responded automatically, then straightened indignantly. "Monica went through my things? What kind of liberties does she think she has? Thinking she can throw other people's possessions around like this..." She shuffled some papers at random into a pile, then thought better of the action and began going through the sheets of paper one by one.

"Those files are property of the City Safety Management Agency and are not your possessions. And Monica was searching for information on the whereabouts of Shun Aurora."

Kyoko started as she cut her finger on the side of a paper. "Sh-Shun Aurora?" she asked incredulously, turning to the tall man and repressing the urge to pop the injured digit into her mouth in a most un-governmental managerial manner. "Whatever for?"

"Monica believes Daisuke to be in danger," the machine reported impassively. "To rescue him, she needs to gain access to Magnagalia. To that end, she requires someone who knows how to manipulate situations..."

"And she figures Shun's going to help?" Kyoko sat down abruptly, smoothed out her skirt, and tried to focus on her screens but could not. "Why didn't she ask me, though? Did she think I wasn't concerned? That I'd try to stop...hey, J?"

"Yes, Kyoko?"

"Are you invited on the rescue mission?" She propped her elbows on the desk and rested her chin on her hands.

"Explicitly, no. But Monica has inferred strongly that I am coming along. She requires my telemeter to locate Daisuke."

"I see." When had she typed "Illegal Activity Report" on that document? She didn't remember doing that...she wasn't honestly considering... "And a boat? Where's she going to get a boat?"

"This plan is less than complete at present. Monica believes Shun will do all the thinking."

"Well, then they'll never leave. The chances of Shun Aurora agreeing to help a little girl save his little brother when said brother may not even be in trouble are..."

"Thirty-two percent, factoring in personality paradoxes of both parties. But Daisuke's chance of being in danger, given his characteristics and track record, is upwards of sixty-five percent."

"That low?" Kyoko tried to laugh off J's treatment of his partner's knack for getting into scrapes, but the lightness in her voice was forced and she knew it. "So how long does it take to get to Magnagalia?"

"A week, in the most current oceanic transportation."

"And how long can Magnagalia survive without the Celestials' high-end system?" One by one the objects tallied in her onscreen calculator: _Cost of bullets—cost of commandeered government skiff—cost of supplies. _The corresponding infractions lined up in parallel lines on her activity report. Given the current budget...assuming the Special Unit engaged in no other cases for about two months (unlikely)...it just might be affordable. Might. Of course, it could always just get the entire Special Unit fired.

"I do not have the necessary data to process that question. It depends entirely on the resourcefulness of Magnagalia's people."

"I see." Kyoko rubbed her temples. "And where is Monica now?"

"Security cameras in the garbage incineration facility recorded her entering the premises two point three hours ago and leaving twenty minutes later."

"So either the conversation was short or they're meeting elsewhere." Standing up again, Kyoko grabbed a sheet of directions as it slid from the printer. "See you, J. I'm off to Phia's. Watch the office while I'm gone."

"Roger, angel." He watched her go, then turned back to the room. Motion registered faintly on his sensors in the opposite corner, but the trace vanished as soon as he stepped forward to investigate. Disregarding it as a potential bug, he stored the desire to inform Antonia of the inconsistency when next she stopped by to check on him and turned his attention instead to the telemeter whirring away in his circuits. As usual for the past year, it registered nothing.

J disliked abnormality. It disrupted his ability to function at his fullest, distracted him.

"A man keeps his mind on the task at hand," he reminded himself. "But he also remembers his friends when they need him. Come home soon, partner."

o0o0o0o0o0

"Yo, Shogun." Pushing aside the curtain hanging across the door to the East Wind, the young man strolled casually in and removed his cap and sunglasses, shaking out a messy head of black-and-blue hair. "It's me."

"Vampire." The old man remained imperturbable as always. "You should not be traveling unsupervised."

Clair smirked snidely; then his face fell and he flopped down next to the sitting elder. "Mauro would try to stop me if he knew what I was up to. And I'm not a baby. I can take care of myself." From his pants pocket he produced a handgun, which he twirled lazily on one finger before pointing it momentarily at the old man's head, then secreted the weapon again. "See?"

Steadily the old man regarded the young one from under the brim of his red hat, brown eyes unreadable yet stern. "Better men than you have carried guns but lost their lives."

"I didn't come here to be scolded, old man," Clair drawled touchily. "I need information fast. Where's Daisuke Aurora?"

"I don't know." The leader of the Gazaardolls bowed his head. "But if I had to guess, I'd say..."

"Magnagalia, right?" the young don interrupted almost nonchalantly. "Has anyone else come to you about this? The police?"

The silver head shook slowly from side to side. "Not officially."

"Special Unit, then?" Clair cackled softly to himself before continuing. "I might have known. When do they leave, then?"

"Tomorrow night. You plan on stopping them?" Brown eyes met purple ones, though neither one faced the other head-on.

Clair shrugged, stood, pulled his cap back on to hide his telltale hairstyle. "Believe what you will. But if anyone asks, Vita won't be missing a boat the next few weeks, and Vampire has fallen ill and is conducting business from his chambers only. Got it?"

"Understood, Vampire. And Clair?"

Pausing at the door, the young man looked back through his heavy shades.

The old man bobbed his head in respect. "Good luck."

o0o0o0o0o0

Phia Oliveira, ex-secretary and sometimes assassin, refused to listen (despite her inclinations to eavesdropping) to the heated conversation being carried on in the living room of her shabby flat and focused instead on preparing hot drinks for her two guests and indefinite boarder. Faintly she'd heard the words "Ken would stop us" and "Boma would get in trouble," and that was all she needed to know. Just the three of them plus the machine, then? They'd never make it past the twenty-mile limit imposed by Judoh's government on all vessels. It would take a miracle, or else someone with incredible connections. And as phenomenal as her old teacher was, she highly doubted even Shogun could help the unlikely trio pull this one off.

Part of her mind reminded her that she shouldn't let Shun even try to leave at all, but the rest of her very quickly allied in telling the rebellious portion to shut up and bother someone else. If anyone could save Shun from himself, for he wasn't in the clear just yet, it would be his little brother. Should he have a chance to act as the brains of yet another grand scheme, it would boost his considerably deflated sense of self-worth. She just hoped the temptation to strike a blow against the people who had so wronged him wouldn't prove too great.

But how would he prove his true nature to himself if he were never tested? She had to let him find out who he was his own way. How could she claim to know?

"The tea's ready," she reported, pushing open the kitchen door with her back and carrying the drinks in on a tray. Her shoulder ached under the heavy load; the bullet wound still bothered her from time to time, but she bore the pain stoically. After years under Shun Aurora, Phia was accustomed to every sort of injury he bestowed unwittingly on those he loved. She just hoped he'd tend to his self-lacerations before it was too late.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0

"You liar!" The warden's fist cracked across Daisuke's face, sent him sprawling to a corner of his holding cell. "The Celestials say they aren't interested in talking to anyone who's not a state official!"

"I never said they would want to talk to me," the blonde said, smiling. "I said I wanted to maybe talk to them. Two entirely different things."

His metaphorical cheek earned his physical one another solid smack. "Don't give me that! Unless..." He peered at the prisoner, piggy eyes leering but curious. "Can we use you to perform the ceremony?"

Daisuke shrugged, closed his eyes. "Who knows. Probably not. Sorry."

"Don't give me your apology!!" Turning away, the warden clutched the bars of Daisuke's cell, white-knuckled and shaking. "How you can smile at a time like this...how you can not care...have you no compassion?"

"I care," the young man replied, sliding down until he lay on the ground staring at the concrete ceiling. "I just can't do anything. So I'm determined not to panic."

"Oh, a wise guy, eh?" Stepping out of the cell, the warden clanged the door shut and locked it. "You'll sing a different tune after our scientists are done with you. If there's any truth to your claims, we'll find out."

Daisuke, still lying on the floor, sighed as the man's footsteps receded. "You didn't give my name, did you?" he asked the absent warden. "Or did she really not want to see me?" He smiled up at the darkness overhead. "Bad form, Mom. You can't live in the past, but you can't ignore it either."

Sighing, he closed his eyes, determined to face whatever new trials the panicking people would impose upon him next with a refreshed mind. Twenty-four hours remained until the water purification system would shut down within Magnagalia. Thirty-six hours until the lights would go out.

If someone didn't do something, they'd be out forever.


	3. Alive, Extra

**Episode 3: Alive (Extra)**

"Oi, Monica! What are you doing?"

The small girl barely turned her head to see the three older ones behind her, then returned to studying her map, pencil safely stashed behind one ear as she traced possible routes with a hard-pressed finger. "I'm working with a map," she said in the same agitated tone one might say "I'm breathing" to the same question. "Don't you people have eyes?"

"Hey, hey, let us see!" Undeterred by her prickly response, they crowded around, eager to catch a glimpse of whatever had so captivated the young photographer. After all, potential clients were passing on either side and the girl seemed completely ignorant of them. Why had she bothered getting a new camera and wagon if she wasn't going to use them? "Are you going somewhere, Monica?"

"That's a secret," the girl replied in self-importance. "Special Unit only."

"You are, you are!" They pressed even closer. "Tell us! Where?"

"Back off, you bimbos!" She swatted them away, using her map as a fan; indignant, they stepped backwards a few paces. "Haven't you people ever heard of personal space? And I'm going on a rescue mission! Happy? It's very important that you don't tell anyone, though. His life might depend on it."

"His?" one of the girls asked, brushing a piece of her blond hair out of her face.

"You can't mean--" her redheaded friend gasped.

"Not Dai??" shrieked the final member of the trio. "You're going after Dai??"

Instantly they were all in her face again. "Take us too! We want to come! We want to save Daisuke!"

"Jeez," muttered Monica. "Don't even know where he is or what he's doing yet." Louder she barked, "No, you can't go! There's too many people as it is! I didn't want to take Kyoko but--"

"Kyoko's going too?" Linking elbows with the small girl, the older ones hoisted her to her feet from the table where she'd been sitting near her wagon. "Now, c'mon, Monica. You know you want us to come along to see Dai."

"We'll pay you," offered the tallest of the three, opening her purse and taking out her wallet; instantly her two colleagues mimicked the motion. "How much do you want?"

To say the offer wasn't tempting would have been a lie, but Monica's mind was made up. Already she had a "useless" category in her head as she mapped out her plans, currently filled by Kyoko Milchan ("useful" was divided into two groups—smart people (Shun Aurora) and strong people (J). She had willfully neglected to fit herself into a category), and had no desire to add more people to her already tenuous equation.

"No way," she objected. "You'll eat and take up space on the boat. Plus you'll get in the way."

The pronouncement was met with disappointed groans and whining, but on the point Monica remained firm. She needed J to find Daisuke and to steer the boat, as well as to deal with any thugs they ran into on Magnagalia. She needed Shun to come up with plans of action. Kyoko...Kyoko could stay and mind the boat. Yes, that would work.

"What are you going in, anyway?" the redhead asked.

Monica returned to tracing possible routes on her slightly tattered map. "Kyoko's going to try and get us a military boat," she replied, inwardly seething that some cosmic idiot had dropped a chain of islands right in the way of her straight passage to Magnagalia. "We'll think of something."

"Then let us do that for Dai," offered the tallest. "I have a client with a yacht he's offered to take me out on. I could say yes on the condition that first you get to bor--"

"EWWW!!! NO!!!" Monica threw her pencil at them. "Go away! Stop bothering me! If you really want to help Daisuke, keep out of the way!"

"All right," they agreed shakily, backing off and into the crowd. "Let us know, Monica..."

"Idiots," Monica sniffed. "Don't you think so, Parsley?"

The donkey in question snorted and twitched his tail. Monica ruffled his mane, surveying the line she'd slashed across the ocean. Seeing it like that, it was so long. And Magnagalia itself was so big...

No, she had J for that. Her plan was one hundred percent foolproof.

And, knowing Daisuke, it would have to be.

O0o0o0o0o0o

She had always liked the ocean, from the day she'd first set eyes on it to the day it brought her people back to her. Long hair dancing in the wind, the woman dangled a lazy leg off the deck of her people's enormous nautical transport and watched the light glance off the waves, enjoying the spray in her face and the calls of seabirds wheeling around her head. What a beautiful day. It was almost perfect enough to make her forget what awaited the city spread out behind her.

"Nona."

Hearing the summons, she stood, turned to smile at her companion. "What is it?" Something—she knew not what—fluttered in her chest; could it be hope? Hope of what? For the people of the city? But she had been the one to make the decision!

The man's face was grim. "They sent a representative to negotiate with us for more time and assistance in correcting their errors. He's...well, I think you should see him."

"Oh, he can't be all that bad," she laughed, tucking a piece of her windblown hair behind one ear. "He must be a very good man, to plead for an entire city."

"Nona, they sent Leorza."

One hand grappled for the silver railing behind her, caught it and held it fast. The lock of hair dislodged itself and swung dangerously in front of her right eye. "Wh-what?" she gasped. "Leorza's here? And alive?"

"Quite alive," a clipped, pristine voice reported as another, older man joined her on the deck. "You look beautiful as always, Nona. But I thought you would have returned to Judoh on the last convoy."

"And I thought you had planned to stay there yourself," she replied evenly, balance regained and a new levelness sneaking into her voice. "Wasn't that what you worked out with my brother? You would work for him as 'Lor--'"

"Echigo is dead," the man informed her calmly, dispassionately, smoothing his pale mustache as he spoke. "At least, the man who named himself Serge Echigo is dead. The torch has been passed—snatched, as it were, from your dying brother's limp fingers. And I think, Nona Aurora, that you'll be most interested in the identity of the young thief."

o0o0o0o0o0o

At last, he could rid himself of the stench of the incineration plant with no immediate sight of its returning. Wringing out his long blond hair with a blue towel Phia brought him, Shun slipped his glasses on and sighed. Fogged up. Again. Technology could implant chips in eyeglasses that allowed men to see through the eyes of androids, but it couldn't keep condensation off. Mankind's conquest of the universe could only go so far.

Affixing the final button on his collar, he slipped his necktie around his throat and knotted it deftly. Phia watched him in silence, having taken the towel from him once he completed his use of it; she held it close to herself, looking awkwardly like a child with a security blanket. He suppressed another sigh.

"You may as well say what you're thinking," he informed her, checking his part in the mirror and finding his overall appearance satisfactory. Perhaps not quite the same man stared back at him as had a year ago, but overall he had borne his fate well. Yet Shun also knew not to trust his outward appearance to betray his inner thoughts and state. He had trained himself in the art of unreadability too thoroughly for that. Phia, though...he could read Phia all too well.

Coming up behind him, she looped her arm around his and snuggled close, wet towel blotting his shirt in addition to his still-damp hair. This at least was a welcome progression the past year had wrought: despite both of them getting shot for and by each other, some emotions simply could be not deterred and had been followed along their natural courses. "I just want to be sure you know what you're doing," she murmured, not meeting his eyes. "After all, even if you save him you'll be arrested when you get back and--"

"Phia." He took her chin gently, tilted it up towards his. Deep blue eyes met pale green: the former overflowing, the latter frozen. He owed it to her to tell her his decision...but could he trust her? If he couldn't trust her now, could he truly trust no one in the world? For the sake of the promise he'd made to his absent brother, he had to believe. "I don't know if I'll be coming back."

"You think it's that dangerous?" Suspicion quirked her brows briefly.

"I don't have anything to come back to here," he said softly. "Present company exempted."

"So you'll leave for your own sake?" Anger flared, then simmered down as she sought to control herself. "You'll help them and then just—slip away?"

"I promised Daisuke I would learn to forgive," he told her absently, no longer focused on her face but rather on some construct only his eyes could see. "I don't think I can do that here in Judoh."

"So you'll use him to justify your own wounded pride." She did not say it with malice, but sadness. "Your dignity is worth more than..."

"Than you?" Biting her lip, she nodded, obviously upset at him for daring to voice what even she, with how outspoken she had learned to become, had refrained from admitting. "Like I said, Phia, I don't know yet. I don't even know if we'll find him or if he's even there. But I have to take at least that step."

"I know. I...I want you to." The uneasiness faded from her eyes, loosened her mouth. "I want you to be there for him."

"Like I always have been." He smiled briefly. "He needs me after all, Phia."

She hadn't put it in that light. Now, even though he held her tight and though his lips sought hers, even though she let him press her against the mirror and prove the fire she'd first admired in Shun Aurora was far from extinguished, fear tightened her heart and would not release it. Fear for Shun's safety...and for what little progress he had made on the road to compassion. How quickly could those footsteps be erased? She had a sinking feeling it would be all too easy. And then, even if he decided to return, she would have lost him for good.

O0o0o0o0o0o

Outside the shining glass windows, the moon slowly rose in the velvet sky. The board was set. The clock was ticking. But Clair Leonelli could not make the next move of his grand chess game.

His hat was missing.

Digging through the ornate chest of drawers in which he'd sequestered his disguise for traveling the streets of Judoh unnoticed and unsupervised, he could find his sunglasses but not his cap. He never used one without the other; dammit, he remembered putting them both back right after visiting with Shogun only the previous day! Where could it have gone?

In a fit of sudden frustration he yanked the drawer out with all his might, a bestial snarl of frustration ripping from his lips; the heavy drawer crashed to the ground, narrowly missing his feet. Heedless of the noise, he flung the contents of the drawer around the room, emptying it in a frantic search for the absent item. It just didn't make sense. It should have been there! It was supposed to be there! No one knew about it! No one could even get _into_ his room with the new lock in place, save--

"Looking for this, Vampire?" Sidling into the room, Giovanni held up Clair's hat in one hand while pocketing his key with the other. He nodded towards the open suitcase on the young man's bed, seemingly ignorant of the mess strewn about elsewhere. "Going somewhere?"

"Giovanni!" growled Clair, making a grab for his cap in blind anger. "What do you think you're--"

"No, Vampire, that's my line." Letting the boy snatch back his stolen item, the bodyguard crossed his arms and planted himself firmly in the doorway. "What do _you_ think you're doing?"

"Don't be fresh with me, Giovanni," Clair spat at the tall man, sulky and angry both because he'd been caught and because he'd been scolded. "Show some respect."

"Hey, I just didn't want to miss out on my chance to bid a fond farewell." Giovanni tossed an extra pair of Clair's pants he picked up from the floor into the suitcase before snapping the case shut. "Bring back a souvenir. But you haven't gotten away with anything."

Clair started. Giovanni, seeing his reaction, continued.

"I got a call from Wei yesterday afternoon. Wanted to know who your lady friend was, because he couldn't fathom any other reason for Vampire to be running around in a shitty disguise. Sniggering like a happy pig, the bastard. Now, I know there's no lady and so does the pig. What I do know, but he doesn't yet, is the mysterious disappearance of Company Vita's speedboat yacht. Now, where could that have gone?"

"Giovanni..." Clair drew out the name through his teeth. "Don't make me punish you. Out of my way. And if I hear that you've told Mauro..."

"There's an easy solution to that," his bodyguard pointed out as he went to leave. "Take me with you."

Clair snorted, then laughed softly to himself. "Your intent all along?" he asked over his shoulder, amused even through his monstrous irritation with the man. Credit had to be given where credit was due. It was the Leonellis' way.

"Something like that. Hey, don't disappoint me, Vampire. I just got my suit re-hemmed but Judoh doesn't seem to be hosting any parties where I can show it off."

"Magnagalia won't be either," Clair warned him, though he sounded a little disappointed at the prospect. "Better pack it anyway, though. Just in case."

o0o0o0o0o0o

Daisuke, lying on the bedpad, had run out of possible shapes the cracks on the holding cell's ceiling could constitute. In fearful anticipation of the evening's proclamation, the city had switched to half power to conserve as much energy as possible before the generators shut down, so he turned his attention to combining the shadows with the cracks and seeing what such amalgamations yielded. He had successfully conjured out of the wiggly shapes "a car," "a snake," and "a monster from some far-fetched horror novel" when a rattling at his door broke his concentration. Rolling over onto his side, he stared into a pair of bright eyes.

"Don't make too much noise," warned the young woman playing with the lock; it fell open in her ash-pale hands and silently the door swung open. "I do not wish to be caught with my mission unfulfilled."

"Mission?"

"I have orders to take you away as quietly as possible. Through the Road."

"Well, well." Strolling casually out of the cell, Daisuke appraised his rescuer with an only seemingly casual eye. Around his age, she came up to about his eye level, with ragged pale blue hair straggling halfway down her back. Most of her tight-fitting clothes were black or blue to blend better in with the shadows. Only her eyes, luminous in the near-darkness, stood out from her silhouette. "And who might you be, eh?"

Unblinkingly she answered him, then took his hand and steered him out of the room as he stumbled in surprise. "Usagi."

o0o0o0o0o0o

Parking her bicycle in a back alley where Kyoko hoped it wouldn't get stolen again, though she had grave doubts on the subject, she readjusted her backpack of supplies and unstrapped the bullet case from the back of her bike. At this rate, she would be owing the military her next six paychecks just to compensate for the ammunition her grandfather procured for her on the sly. The other finances, however, were in order: her firearm permission form lay neatly folded in the empty Special Unit safe, and the illegal activities report was safely tucked into a manila folder on her desk for delivery to Safety proper upon her return.

The bullet pendant hanging around her neck bumped against her reassuringly, reminding her of the necessity of her infractions; the sound of her tall boots crunching confidently on the pavement bolstered her resolve. She had chosen once again to dress the part of the vigilante savior and made a bold, if skimpy, statement in black leather.

Heading down to the shore where she, Monica, and Shun had agreed to meet—the very port where she had been given the pendant—her heart sank at the sound of voices carrying from the area. If they hadn't been caught already, they certainly would be soon if they weren't a little more stealthy. What had gotten Monica so worked up, anyway?

The presence of and insignia on the large second boat in their "secret meeting space" answered all her questions without even needing to see the two men arguing with her comrades.

"--and I simply will not travel with that criminal!"

"You're one to talk, Dictator! I owe you, though, so I may be able to tolerate having you around. Then again, we may just be even. You stuck your flunky in my position. So I just took yours."

"_Vampire_!"

"Ah, Kyoko." J alone turned to greet her and properly processed her befuddled facial expression. "Clair and Giovanni wish to come along. They have offered us their boat and supplies, as well, but Shun is less than receptive."

"What's Monica think, though?" Kyoko asked, watching the young girl bounce furiously between scolding Shun and Clair. "I get the idea that her word is law on this trip."

"She has not yet decided." J rotated his shoulders, limbering his joints. "But a decision must be reached soon. A man knows when to argue and when to compromise. And while they debate, the night slips away."

"Plus they're loud," sighed Kyoko, already tired. "Monica, what's--"

"All right!" Ignoring Kyoko's arrival, Monica pointed at Clair and his henchman. "You win! We'll take you and your boat—but only because you say it's faster!"

"She'll make the trip in half time, with the right captain," Clair replied smoothly, the beginnings of a smile toying with his lips. He jerked his cocky head towards J. "The machine there should be able to handle her."

"I can process incoming data at that velocity. It should not be problematic."

"But it leaves _us _at the mercy of that--"

"You speak of mercy when you can reprogram _that_ to kill me on a whim?"

"Excuse me?" Kyoko sidled up to Giovanni as Shun, Clair, and Monica broke into an argument again. The mobster looked down and started.

"Oh, it's you again, miss! Do you always wear that on commando missions?"

"This is only my second," she confessed. "I can't call that an 'always.' Um, what's going on? Not to be rude, but why are you two here?"

Giovanni sighed, scratched his dark head. "I don't really know myself, lady. We heard about Magnagalia, then about the half-Celestial...and the next thing I know Vampire's sneaking around Judoh setting up this little imposition. Guess he found out about the little lady's plan somewhere and decided to hitch a ride. Things have been pretty boring on our side of the tracks lately." He grinned. "Me, I'm just here to see he doesn't blow himself up on his own fireworks."

"I...see." She didn't, not entirely. But she understood enough. "I guess you didn't know about Shun."

"Hell, I didn't know anything. But I'm with the old man. The night's getting away from us, and no matter how much the cops love you guys, they sure would love to nab _us_ for something. Oi, old man!" He gestured to J, catching the android's attention. "Fire her up; we've got to get going!"

"Roger," replied J, stomping over to the boat and boarding just as Monica snapped at Shun, "So are you coming or aren't you?"

The blond man set his jaw and cast his eyes towards the ground, indecisive. Clair stifled a yawn and vaulted onto the vessel. "I'm taking the master bedroom," he informed the company. "It's been a long night and I'm tired."

"What makes _you _the leader now???" Monica demanded, jumping on board herself in pursuit of the young don's retreating back. "Tagalongs don't get to make decisions! You come back here!"

The engine started. "Kyoko, Shun. Are you coming?" J asked, deep voice rolling out over the waves.

"Coming!" Kyoko called back tinnily, and, climbing on board, turned back to Shun. "What about you, Chi—er, Mr. Aurora?" She held out her hand, not sure if she wanted him to take it or not. It was hard to believe that once the idea of sharing a living space with Shun Aurora would have set her heart hammering; the crush had faded in the fires of the coup. His actions a year ago had appalled her—but still, she wanted to believe in him. For Daisuke's sake if nothing else. "Do you still want to come? It's really the Special Unit's job; I'm sure no one will hold it against you if you--"

Taking her hand gracefully, he accepted her assistance in climbing onto the yacht. "Thank you, Milchan. And we will be living in close quarters for some time now. You had best call me Shun."

"Then call me Kyoko, Sh-Shun." He was going to try. He really was going to try. Good for him! Daisuke would be so proud...

"And what are we?" asked Giovanni, coming back over from making sure J knew the ins and out of the boat's controls. "Besides unwanted intruders?"

"You are exactly that, in this conversation at least," Shun replied tersely; Kyoko tried to stifle a giggle but failed. So Clair Leonelli had thrown his support to Daisuke out of boredom? Times certainly wouldn't be dull on board the rescue craft, that was certain.

She just hoped they wouldn't all kill each other before Magnagalia even came into view.


	4. Pursuit, Anger

**Episode 4: Pursuit (Anger)**

_Hi Ken! How are you doing? I hope you've had your coffee because otherwise you'll understand none of this, and that cancels out the whole purpose of letting you know where I'm off to._

_By the time you find this note we'll be well on our way, so don't go running around Judoh looking for me. A lot of us who are worried about Daisuke decided to all go save him from Magnagalia before it shuts down entirely and he's stranded. We've got J, so it should all be safe. Don't worry about us! You look stupid when you worry, and I want you to be on your best behavior for Mom. She'll be upset with me, so tell her nicely and stress that I'll be back soon just fine. _

_I've left the food money for this week divided into envelopes next to this letter. If you go over-budget I will take the difference from your wallet! Try not to spend it all, either, and don't forget that Parsley needs to be fed with it too. I usually buy him an apple on Tuesdays, so if I'm not back by then make sure he gets one so he doesn't sulk._

_See you soon—with Daisuke! From Monica_

_PS. I almost forgot. Kyoko says the police chase people trying to go twenty miles outside of the city without permits. We didn't have time to get a permit, but if you could delay the search for us and/or the chasing people so we can get away with no problems that would be great. About three days ought to do it. We're counting on you, Ken!_

He read the letter twice to make sure his bleary-morning eyes weren't deceiving him, then crumpled it in a shaking fist and swore repeatedly, banging his coffee mug down on the table. Of all the arrogant—All the supposing little—All the people who'd ever made abrupt demands on his abilities and time, this was the absolute—the most—well, it was so infuriating that even thoughts failed him!

It wasn't just that she'd left without asking permission first, or that apparently she'd gotten the Special Unit mixed up in whatever crazy suspicions she'd cooked up in that scheming little head of hers. No, what really set Ken Edmundo's blood boiling was the fact that the conspirators—and he had a pretty good idea as to who all was involved—had willfully decided not to ask him to come along. True, he would have refused almost immediately and then done everything in his power to keep them from going as well, up to and including pulling his newly appointed rank as Chief of Police, but still! He'd thought they were a team, and yet...

"Damn her," he muttered, taking a swig of sour coffee and grimacing. "Going to get herself killed in another city." He should take the note to the office immediately and send out a search team, he knew that. The badge laying on the table, winking even in the dim light—the little brat had had the gall to put her runaway note next to his _badge_, for crying out loud!--reminded him of the fact. No matter who she'd taken along—be it machine or werewolf or whatever other strange denizens of Judoh may have decided to join up—she was still just a kid, and no matter how smart and tough she thought she was, her youth automatically made her vulnerable in Edmundo's eyes. And he'd sworn to protect the vulnerable. Especially his adoptive daughter.

But she was also his friend. And personal ethics dictated that friends kept friends' secrets.

Oh, she had him good; what was more, she knew he'd have this reaction. The entire smug tone of the missive communicated that quite plainly. Tacking on a request for him to pull strings as a postscript? The nerve! How could she possibly be so flippant about the chief of police willfully bending the law for his own personal associates? It was a dirty, corrupt trick. The type anyone would suspect of someone who'd sold out to Vita or the Shop, not a former member of the City Safety Management Agency Special Unit! He couldn't—he wouldn't--

He was going to, he realized, self-righteousness sinking in his gut and turning to stone. If there was even the slightest chance that the girl was right, and that she could help Daisuke, he had to give her the chance.

"Ken?" a sleep-slurred voice asked behind him. "Did Monica leave for work already? I told her to wake me up..."

Oh, damn. Damn damn damn. Damn the scrawny little schemer, leaving him with all the hard jobs.

"Ah, Christina?" He didn't turn around to face the woman; was a bit afraid to, in fact. "I guess you could say that."

o0o0o0o0o0o0o

"So, um...where are we exactly?" Even though he spoke barely above a whisper, Daisuke's voice resonated through the dim tunnel. A drop of water splashed onto his head from above, and he shook his blond head to spread out the cold sensation. "How'd you find this thing?"

"This is the Celestial Road," his guide replied calmly, her hand cool and smooth in his as she led him along the dark passageway. "The route the visitors take to the high-end systems to avoid contact with the city proper. Over long spans of time, prisoners and escapees of the reformation institute built tunnels connecting the jails with the Road as an escape measure. The Road leads right beneath the lab, in fact."

"So the Celestials took a wrong turn on the way to the system and ended up in Magnagalia's biggest jail?" Daisuke gave a low whistle that bounced eerily around their heads. "No wonder they got pissed."

"Indeed," the girl concurred. "Please do not speak so much."

"Sorry. Oops." But he couldn't help asking one more question. "Where are you taking me?"

She glanced back at him. "To my master. But be silent. The wardens do not know I have free reign of the tunnels, and should the one in my cell be discovered I would cease to be of use to my master." Turning ahead, she broke her own code of silence and asked a question of her own. "Why did you wish to contact Celestials?"

He looked up from processing all the information he knew about his rescuer thus far and, startled, replied uneasily, "Well, I don't want the city to be shut down, you know? Plus I thought they might listen to me. My mother's on that Celestial boat." He shrugged. "Of course, even she might not be interested. How about you? You have family?"

"I am told I have a brother by the beast masters. We have never met. Watch your step; there are three stairs here."

"Beast masters? You're a convict? But you don't have a...or is that a mask?"

"No, my face is human. I am a prototype. Instead of making me regret forever the things I have done, they wiped them away. I cannot remember for what I was convicted. But my master has promised me a new life if I do as he says."

"So who is this all-powerful master who wants to see me? I think I have a right to at least know who--"

"Quiet!" She stopped, holding a hand up; her eyes flashed even in the dusky tunnel. "We have spoken too much. They have come for us." Down the long passage, a howl echoed faintly; Daisuke shivered and smiled, counting footsteps as they approached.

"There are four of them. Shouldn't we run or...?"

The girl had dropped his hand and closed her eyes; her breathing grew shallow and she swayed on her feet. When her eyes opened again, they did not see him, stared at nothing. Her breath remained gentle, level, even. She was asleep standing up.

"Um, hey? Napping is a great refresher, but..."

He could see them coming now, four brawny men with the brown faces of beasts clutching electric prods in their fists. Gritting his teeth, Daisuke stepped backwards into a fighting stance and put up his fists. "Heya, folks. Don't mind us. Hey, even I don't know where I'm going."

The men roared in reply and charged. Daisuke braced himself, but a flash of blue flew in front of him and parried his attackers. Stretching out her arms, the girl drew twin blades from the rippling air and leapt forward to combat her attackers. Daisuke dropped his fists only slightly, bemused. He had only ever seen one other person conjure weapons from thin air.

"Well, well," he marveled. "So somehow, you _do_ exist now."

o0o0o0o0o0o

Above the tunnels and across the ocean, the day dawned bright and crisp, sunlight beaming down on the waves even as a cool breeze ruffled through Kyoko's short pink hair. They had passed the twenty-mile mark in record time, Clair's boat living up to his hype of its no doubt illegally supercharged engine, and thus all humans on board had been able to sneak at least a few hours of sleep. The don himself had not been seen since his retirement the previous night. Kyoko couldn't decide if his laid-back attitude to the entire escapade was smug bravado or honest exhaustion.

Certainly she could identify with the latter. She hadn't been able to retire to her cabin (a small, cramped arrangement, but that was only to be expected) until she had been absolutely positive no patrol boats were chasing their vessel. Really, the ease of their escape was shocking. Shouldn't they have at least shown up on radar?...but knowing Vita, their boats were probably equipped with scramblers. For the first time, Kyoko began to see the perks of having the underworld on her side.

As it was, they seemed to be in the clear for the time being, and Kyoko decided to take advantage of the situation. Having changed into her swimsuit, she spread a towel out on the deck and laid down, shooting Giovanni a venomous glare when, walking by, he whistled and gave her a thumbs-up. Such behavior was indecent in a grown man, especially one in his position. Wasn't Vampire supposed to be the immature one?

"You aren't taking this seriously!" complained Monica loudly upon seeing the sunbathing young woman. "This isn't a vacation!"

"It isn't dangerous right now either," Kyoko pointed out, rolling over onto her stomach. "And I prefer to relax while I can to be ready for when things become troublesome." The wind-chill added by the yacht's speed made her shiver, and she began to rethink her plans for the morning. What good would lying out do for her if she was both cold and ridiculed by her shipmates? Her time might be better spent napping in her little cabin...

"Hey, Giovanni." Clair, normally mussed hair now even more tousled by a long night's sleep, stood languidly in the doorway to the cabin area with his purple eyes still half-lidded. "I'm hungry. Make me breakfast."

"Right, Vampire. Anyone else want something? Miss?" Kyoko shook her head and covered her barely-clothed chest with her arms, hugging herself underneath Clair's scathing scrutiny of her attire. He had no right to make her uncomfortable, staring like that! Just because they were using his boat didn't make him the ruler of the universe. Despite his apparently casual demeanor, she had a suspicion he was behaving so at home to put everyone else off-guard.

Snorting in amusement, the object of Kyoko's indignation smirked and turned away as his bodyguard led the way to the mess hall, a hungry Monica now also in tow and chattering incessantly. "What did you pack? I hope you brought enough for the whole trip. Where did you buy the food? You didn't make anyone suspicious, did you?" For her part, Kyoko stood, still clutching her own shoulders against the chill. No, sunbathing on a boat going twice as fast as was legally sanctioned was out of the question. The wind blew too hard. And if they hit a squall, anyone on deck ran the risk of being tossed overboard. Life below deck, for the time being, was the most appealing arrangement.

As she headed for the cabin door, however, movement further towards the stern caught her eye around the corner. Leaning against the railing and watching the city (which had already been reduced to little more than a dark uneven line) fade on the horizon, Shun Aurora's normally perfectly groomed long hair whipped around a head bent in thought.

Cautiously Kyoko approached him. "Chi...Shun? Is something wrong? Do you not feel well?"

He looked up, face drawn but untouched by nausea or other signs of seasickness. "Thank you for your concern, Kyoko, but I'm perfectly all right."

She held tight to the railing, slid into a half-seated position against it. "The others are eating together," she informed him, not entirely certain why she was insisting on continuing the conversation when the man so obviously wanted to be alone. Maybe she had seen something pass across his face in the moment when he first snapped out of his reverie; in that unguarded instant he had perhaps resembled his brother... "If you want breakfast, you won't have to get it yourself right now."

"I already ate." He smiled gently, politely: the politician's concerned expression for the fretting sheep in his herd. "You go on ahead. My welfare really shouldn't be your concern."

She swallowed hard. "Um, sir, it is too mine if it isn't yours."

He looked at her blankly, and she realized how vague she had been. Flustered, she tried to explain. "I-I mean, if you don't look after yourself I'm just going to have to do it for you. We're on a team together, right? So that makes what happens to you my responsibility." Oh, now she'd done it. Stuck her neck out for absolutely no reason other than...what? To make a point? To try and convince him to play nicely with the other children when those same children were generally considered the playground bullies? No, that analogy was faulty; Shun himself could all too easily fit into the latter category as well. "Besides, I owe it to Daisuke to look after you."

"So I'm incapable of functioning without my younger brother?" Shun inquired bitterly, spitting his words not at her but at some internal reflection. He would not meet her eyes; the sunlight glancing off his eyeglasses obscured his own from view.

"N-no, I didn't mean..." How _did_ she get herself into these messes? "Please forgive me if I offended you. But...Shun, I think we all have a right to know if you're going to be an absolute bear this entire trip!!"

_There_, she realized with both liberation and dread. She'd figured it out, and there it was: the entire reason she'd been drawn to him. He was the ill-fitting puzzle piece, even more so than Clair and Giovanni were, and she wanted to know if he'd somehow try to fit anyway. Not the most diplomatic way of putting the sentiment, but in her own mind the most accurate. Her duty to her own feelings thus discharged, she squirmed in nervous anticipation of his reply.

She didn't have to wait long. His mask cracked under the pressure of her words. "It's the first morning, _Milchan._ Just because I prefer my own company early in the morning does not indicate isolationism on my part." Now he let himself be angry at her, but instead of thawing the ice coating his words grew thicker. "I think you're being a bit premature."

"Really?" asked Kyoko, immediately jumping to the defensive despite knowing she'd deserved the slight. She hadn't known, however, how violently she would react. Everything she'd fretted about from the minute she'd walked into Phia's apartment and found Monica and Shun deep in conversation bubbled to the surface. And the prisoner laboratories of Magnagalia had no fury like Kyoko Milchan scorned. "Well, I don't think so, _Shun." _She purposely did not switch back to formalities. "You agree with Monica's scheme because you think by proving how much everyone, especially Daisuke, needs you, you'll be on top again. But along comes competition and what do you do? You wall yourself away from it."

"This is unfair. All I've done so far is--"

She wasn't listening, blinded as it were by a flash of scathing inspiration. "Because that's the only way your perfect world will exist, isn't it? If you're the only one in it? Then all the little people you analyze and manipulate will behave the way you want them to, because they'll be nothing more but pieces of your mind. Well, I live in the _real_ world, Shun Aurora, and I've seen those people. They wake and they work and they pay taxes and they lie and they cheat...and sometimes, yes, they leave. Sometimes they let each other down. But you know what? The world keeps turning. That's the great thing about it: it keeps on rolling, and you have to either keep up or you'll fall off. You've been running after it for so long that you're afraid to jump back on for fear of falling again and having to repeat the whole thing. Can't you see how backwards that is? Can't you?? Or _won't_ you?"

As she paused for breath, the sound of clapping interrupted her. "Mitchal was right about you, miss," Giovanni informed her approvingly, hands on his hips as Clair finished applauding. "You've got spunk. I too may fall in love."

"Nice speech, but it's got some holes. What, for example, makes the world's constant motion so great?" Apparently Vampire considered literary analysis to be one of his fortes in addition to scheming and blowing things up. "Sounds pretty annoying to me." He smiled cruelly, amused by something despite his semantic objections.

She turned, cheeks flushing more rosy than her hair, mortified. "I-I-I..." Words failed her at last, and her heart went out to the man who mere moments before she had condemned in the most eloquent speech she could produce in the heat of the situation. "Sh-Shun, I'm so sorry, I didn't know anyone was..."

"Does it make a difference?" Shun asked coldly. "If this is your opinion of me...does it change depending on who listens?"

"Not exac-exactly, but..." She squirmed, looked at her bare feet. "I didn't wish to humiliate you..."

"But if I'm the only person in my world, you've just done so in front of the entire cosmos," Shun returned caustically, keeping emotion out of his voice and ironically sounding even more menacing. "Excuse me. I shall return to my chambers." Head high, he walked deliberately away.

"Yeah, keep falling behind, Mr. Runner!" Clair taunted at his back, giggling; then he caught Kyoko's arm as she too tried to slip away. "Hold it, Miss Philosopher. You didn't answer my question."

"Which--"

"You said the best thing about this damn world is that it keeps moving despite the people in it. What's so great about that?" His eyes bored into hers, rooted her more firmly to the deck than did his white-knuckled hand grasping her arm. "To me...that sounds like the worst possible thing. Because once you fall off, you can't get back on. Ever."

His voice was shot through with an aura of nonchalance. Had his eyes not betrayed him, she would have believed the noncommittal act. "I..." She fumbled for an explanation of what she only understood as a response in her gut. "I don't really..."

His face fell for a moment before contorting in anger, but in that instant he looked like a whipped puppy and she understood what really was at stake for him. Despite his nails digging into her skin, despite the pressure his pupils bore down with onto hers, she could not be angry with him the way she had reacted to Shun for far less of an invasion. She wanted to give him the answer he so desperately wanted, but as neither of them knew it that was impossible.

It became obvious in the following silence that Kyoko had nothing to say. Letting go of her arm dismissively, Clair shrugged, coughed something that might have been a laugh. "Ah, well. Why would anyone who's dropped off want to get back on, anyway?" She cast one last, apologetic look in his direction, then ran off in the direction of the cabins. Watching her too leave, dissatisfaction quirked his brows even as his lips curved upwards. "We don't seem to be too popular today, Giovanni."

Sighing, the tall man scratched his head. "Beats me why, Vampire. We're so personable."

"Indeed."

"HEY! YOU! What's your name again? Oh yeah. CLAIR! GET OVER HERE!!" Monica's insistent, strained voice cut through the air. "J NEEDS YOU. NOW, IDIOTS!!!!!"

"Aw. Another babe hates us."

"Shut up, Giovanni." Clair had stopped smiling. "It's not her. It's the machine."

"So?" They began crossing the deck towards the captain's room.

Clair's face was set in a grim frown, but unlike his previous smiles of discontent his frown seemed effused with barely-contained eagerness. He let the ends curl up slightly. "So something must have gone wrong."

o0o0o0o0o0o

_If the Magnagalian scientists intended to render Usagi harmless at any point in her interment, something must have gone wrong,_ Daisuke reflected as he leaned against the cold tunnel wall, watching the slim girl handle all four of their attackers with nimble aplomb. No matter how quickly the beast-men lunged for her, no matter how compromising a position she found herself in, the girl who called herself Usagi never let the men land a single blow on her, darting in and out, slashing at exposed areas then vanishing before a counterblow could be struck. Were it not for the blood wetting the ground and staining the twin blades she whirled around her body, the spectacle Usagi presented might have looked like a well-rehearsed dance. Little by little she whittled away at their strength—a cut here, a distracting rent there—until finally the four, exhausted and dizzy from blood loss, collapsed to the ground, panting and snarling as they fought for the strength to strike back.

She didn't give them the chance. Mere seconds after her opponents' collapse, all four throats were slit and her blades vanished once more into the darkness. Turning to Daisuke as she wiped blood off her cheek, she blinked sleepily and smiled softly at him. "Shall we continue, then?"

"Remind me never to piss you off," the blond young man replied shakily, casting one last glance at the four corpses lying on the stained tunnel floor before following her lead once more. "Didn't that hurt our chances of convincing the Celestials to come back here? No matter how fast that gets cleaned up, it's still going to smell like blood to them."

"My master will deal with the Celestials," Usagi replied simply. "Getting you to him is my sole concern. Now let us hurry. The beast master will not be pleased with what I have done here, and he is a vengeful man."

"I know, I know," Daisuke muttered wryly, picking up his pace to keep up with the briskly-striding young woman. "Not gonna tell me anything?"

A thought occurred to him as they came to a fork in the tunnel. "Usagi...is it possible for the Celestials to be set up? Like, to be guided to the wrong place since all these tunnels are in place?" He had had prior dealings with the beings, and making such an error did not at all coordinate with what he knew of them. They were too bright, too sensitive to go the wrong way of their own accord...but just trusting enough to be led the wrong direction if these specific ones had never been to Magnagalia's high-end system before.

"It is possible. We will want to turn left at the next divide."

So someone wanted Magnagalia to fall, eh? Daisuke chuckled, keeping his eyes on the girl's back in the dim light; he was reluctant to take her hand again after that massacre. The last thing he wanted was to meet a Celestial with blood smeared all across his palms. Kind of hard to explain.

That settled it, though. Vacation was officially over. Time for Daisuke Aurora, Special Unit, to go to work. Sure, he wasn't in Judoh. Who cared about little things like that? No matter where he went, there would always be crimes to prevent.

Daisuke had gone on an unannounced leave of absence in the midst of a major reconstruction movement in his city, but that didn't mean he had no sense of professional duty. After all, he was a man. And a man always fought the bad guys with all his might.


	5. Punishment, Worry

**Episode 5: Punishment (Worry)**

The man whimpered as his own whip cracked across his back, scrabbling with desperate fingers on the table but unable to escape the reach of the woman wielding it. "F-f-forgive me..." he sputtered in desperation, sweat shining on his round brow and making his thin mustaches limp with the dampness. Feverishly he watched her through his round glasses as she raised her hand for another blow.

This time his cry was premature, a preemptive shriek of terror before the leather scoured his open flesh. Shivering, he screwed his eyes shut, unable to watch any longer. "Stop..." he moaned. "It won't happen ag-g-gain..."

"It had better not," replied the woman matter-of-factly, cracking the whip in the air and sending the man on the table cowering at the sound. Pushing a button on the table's surface, she freed his left ankle from the shackle locking it down. "You may have started the experiment, but the girl belongs to Leorza now. Got that?"

"L-l-leorza? N-not you, Baroness?" Quaking too badly to stand, he remained flat on his stomach, raw wounds crisscrossing his open back in a sadistic patchwork. "I th-thought..."

"No, you didn't," replied the woman dryly, toying with the whip, turning it over in her manicured hands and picking bloody strands free. "You jumped when you were told. Who's the trained one, then, beast master? Not that I oppose such an arrangement. I like how domesticated you've become. Now, if you want any more of that stuff from Leorza, I suggest you tend to those cuts in secret. Not a word to the big bosses upstairs. The last thing we want is for the syndicate to rise just as the lights go out on the world above, hmm?"

"No one will kn-know, Baroness." Standing at last, he fetched his top hat from a hook on the wall and placed it with trembling fingers onto his head. "Will you be keeping the wh-whi--"

She tossed it at him; he fumbled the catch and had to bend over, wincing as the wounds on his back strained. No sooner had he straightened than he had to catch his red coat, also flung his direction by the woman in the lab coat. "Thank you, B-baroness."

She smiled, lit a cigarette. "You're welcome. Now get out of my sight." Bowing, he did as he was commanded, slamming the door behind him with not undue vigor; she listened with amusement until his footsteps faded, puffing thoughtfully on her cigarette. They were all the same, really. Thought they ruled the world, but in the face of _real_ talent and ambition...

The earbud in her coat pocket beeped; holding the cigarette daintily between her teeth, she pulled it out and put it on. "We're done," she reported, removing the cigarette and snuffing it on the table, grinding it until only ashes and a scour mark remained. "He won't give us any more trouble. How about your end?"

The voice in her ear remained to the untrained listener devoid of emotion, but she thought she detected perhaps a faint hint of satisfaction in the tenor. "As expected, Trinity. I've deflected all questions pertaining to the boy for the time being. He will be getting here soon, I should think."

"Usagi's a good girl. Don't give me that suspicion." She undid the top button holding her coat on, sighed. "You should have seen how white he got when he realized we knew already."

"I do not gain pleasure from such things, as you know." A pause, then, "Nona is here."

"Well, I thought the boy proved that. Don't tell me you're still bitter. There's a reason I choked during your sob story, and it's not because I was holding back tears." Already she regretted destroying her cigarette; it had been the last in her pack and she wanted another.

"I find your change in tone a bit disconcerting, Trinity. Informality is not yet called for between us."

"I'm very informal by nature, Leorza." She kicked her heels off, crossed fishnet-stockinged legs as she sat on the table and leaned back. "It comes with being human. You should add it to your repertoire, see how you like it."

"I may rethink our arrangement if you continue to behave like this towards me."

"Be my guest. I'm not the parasite here. I have better things to do with the syndicate than use it to further your advancement. Do your own damn work."

"A good leader watches her back, especially when things are going well. Don't make unnecessary enemies."

She scoffed. "Your money and prestige aren't here yet. If I emigrate, I'll be sure to look out for your supporters. But here? Not seeing any, without me."

"Do you wish for your city to continue existing?"

Sitting up, she blinked in surprise at the sudden question. "You wouldn't," she laughed nervously. "Not just because I teased you. What about your plans?"

"Plans can be altered, sped up. I've waited over fifty years and am fully prepared to wait another two hundred. If forced, though, I can settle for just Judoh."

"Assuming everything's the way you left it."

"Trinity, not two years have passed." Now it was his turn to be scornful. "I may have had my doubts, but I certainly hope that after my investments in his life my successor is not _that_ complete a failure. To have produced such a catastrophe would soil my record."

"Well, we can't have that." Abruptly she yanked the bud out of her ear, terminated the conversation. He was all talk. They all were. Day in and day out, every "project" she'd picked out of the garbage that came crawling to the syndicate chattered nonstop about their "plans" for "advancements" and "progressions", but no one ever seemed willing to do any actual work. That's why she'd been drawn to Leorza at first: he had delivered on his intentions. It was a bit disappointing to find out she'd been wrong.

But what had she expected? Even if he _was_...different, he had still come to see the underworld as his only source of power. No one with a decent work ethic ever took that route, which disgusted her. After all, it made her job so damn difficult.

Plugging the bud back into her ear, she pressed a different button. "Baroness here, Secretary. I've just received a report from the delegate I sent them for you. He reports great chances of an extension. Now, about my compensation for thus exposing an agent. I want parts. That's right, machine parts..." Being in charge could be such a drag at times. A dishonest day's work was never done, and she wanted to get back to her toys.

O0o0o0o0o0

Watching the blips on the radar screen draw closer and closer, Clair Leonelli couldn't decide whether to curse the fates or laugh out loud for joy. Really, the situation was just too hysterical. They had successfully avoided the law only to run afoul of scavenging groups, who no doubt assumed the unknown vessel planned on infringing on "their" territory? He could die gagging on the irony. This would be too, too simple. Wouldn't they be sorry!

"Giovanni, fly the Vita flag," he ordered calmly, smirking as already his mind entertained visions of the presumptuous scavengers begging for mercy. "Let them know who they're dealing with. Oh, and keep the little girl off the deck. She'd hurt my image." Nodding, the tall man rushed off to do as he was told.

"What is that supposed to mean??" Monica demanded, stomping her foot; Clair ignored her and turned his attention back to the control panel and the android operating it.

"Scavenging is an illegal act," reported said android. "What measures should be taken, Monica?"

Oh, so now _she_ was his partner in Aurora's absence? A lot of responsibility for such a little girl. That sort of thing could be dangerous. Cutting her off as she opened her mouth, Clair replied, "Wait and see what they do once we've got the flag up. Running away might make them suspicious, if they're the jumpy kind." Leaning on the cabin wall, he shoved his hands into his pants pockets and allowed himself a full-blown grin. "But if they fire a shot, they'll regret it."

o0o0o0o0o0

The old man had never considered himself to be the excitable sort; in his line of work, he couldn't afford to be jumpy or high-strung. The past year or so, however, had begun to change his opinion of himself as his prospects dwindled to the point where he'd actually cut the ties to his old lifestyle himself. Not that he'd had a choice...Yet his employer had taken him on again, and to his pleasant surprise things had actually gone well since then.

Until this.

Shaking his white curly head, Mauro replayed the small audio disc he'd found on his employer's pillow that morning when he'd at last been able to enter. The young man had recently been possessed with a desperate need to have his bedroom door lock changed, and after the fact had been stingy with the keys. Mauro had had to call in one of Company's Vita professional thieves—an expert lockpicker—to even get in, after calling for the young master through the door for over an hour with no response. After the disc (but no young master) had been discovered, he'd had to pay off the thief to remain quiet as well. All that, before even listening to the thing. Afterwards...

It started up again, and he felt his heart quicken with nervousness. It would never work, things could never work out the way his young master thought they would. The ruse would be discovered, and Vita overrun in the absence of its leader. He would be compromised again in a heartbeat, have to make that decision again. Feeling his heart quake in his chest, he didn't know if his health was up to it.

"_Hey, Mauro. It's me. By the time I come back, I want my door fixed, no matter what you did to it. Hopefully the damage isn't too severe, as it's coming out of your salary._

"_You don't need to know where I'm going or what I'm doing. That way no one can stop me. Try to keep Giovanni from tearing all over Judoh looking for me, as that would give away the secret." _The young master snickered at that point in the recording, a sound that constantly portended further stress on his advisor's part. _"The official byline that I came up with was that I was sick and taking very few calls, trusting you to run things until my recovery. But you're paid to think up that sort of thing, so change it if you think of something better. _

"_Oh, and if you think Papa had three yachts, your memory is going. He only had two. Should anyone ask, which they shouldn't if you do your job right."_

He didn't used to get this nervous. Of that, Mauro was certain. Why, in his day...long ago, he'd been quite the formidable fighter himself, preferring in his idealism the sword to the gun. When Lorenzo Leonelli had first approached him, it had been to save his life in a back alley as vengeful gunmen surrounded him. Quixotic vigilantism could only go so far in a mercenary world, and the Mauro who stole from the thieves to give to his suffering family had been quickly running out of options. Yet in an instant, the entire way he viewed the word "family" had been altered. He had gained a new master, new charges...well, one new charge, who had provided enough trouble for a thousand. No, that was the wrong tense. Was _still_ providing...

"_I think that's it for me. Look after things for me, will you? Che Honsu's expecting me to call tomorrow. Tell him to switch half of the stuff we've got in vegetables to fruit. Word is that there's an orange blight spreading on the planting islands, and I think we can take advantage of that. If it turns out a loss, I'm blaming you, though. So don't go overboard. But if we make it big, both you and he get a tip. _

"_That's it from me. Don't get too bored while I'm gone."_ The message ended there, dissolving into static before clicking off entirely. Mauro took out his pocket handkerchief and mopped his brow, wiping off his small sunglasses as well before putting the cloth back away. "Young Master..." he chided softly. "What are you up to?" If only the previous Vampire had been able to curb the new one's impulsive tendencies a bit more! Lorenzo Leonelli would never have run off, leaving his advisor to run his crime empire during an indefinite absence.

Oh, the boy was going to get himself killed, and then it would all be over. The Leonelli family name, once spoken with respect, would have its flame snuffed a mere two generations into its reign. Mauro would have failed in his duties, both as an advisor and as a caretaker. Why, he'd practically raised the boy himself, overseen his studies and taught him everything he knew of fencing...he was almost Mauro's own son...

A son he'd sold out for the sake of some larger ideal. Even having been accepted back, a privilege he had neither expected nor felt he deserved, the guilt still wracked him from time to time, especially every time the young master began to resemble the elder in policy. He had been responsible for more than just upholding the family name, and he should have realized that. Even if it meant dying in the line of loyalty the way Ian and Mitchal had, he should have stayed by his young master's side the way he had been since the boy's birth.

Giovanni, though, had been at Clair's side since arriving as well. Where had _he _gotten to? Certainly Vampire hadn't planned on taking the man along—he'd even mentioned him in his message--so where had the bodyguard vanished to? And, come to think of it, didn't he have a key? Perhaps he had checked on the young master earlier, found the disc, and gone searching alone despite the orders on the disc not to. Why lock the door again, then?

Oh, this was too much. No matter how much the young master was trusting him to stay silent, some silences were meant to be broken. He couldn't go to the police, not in his position and the company's current vulnerability (and after the Echigo Group deal had gone so _well_, too! he lamented to himself); but other helpful institutions existed. Pulling out his portable phone, Mauro scrolled through a list of contacts before punching one in.

"Hello? Is this Shogun's beetle? This is Mauro, of Company Vita. Are you alone?...I see. Word has reached me you do investigative work in addition to your usual duties..."

He had no idea how apt his choice was, how much she already knew. And what she didn't know, she figured out fairly quickly, then made a few calls of her own.

o0o0o0o0o0

The scavengers fired. And, true to Clair's word, they regretted it. They regretted it from the moment they saw their prey bank around in the water to the moment they watched from three small lifeboats as their own vessels joined the treasure they'd been seeking on the ocean floor. None of them had really understood why one of the people on the yacht had bothered tossing grenades onto their boats when the transports had been sinking anyway. Too late, one member of the party remembered where he'd seen the symbol on the enemy's flag before and connected it with the favorite pastimes of the organization's reputedly unstable leader; but the additional information came in handy once they finally reached the twenty-mile mark and were picked up by a passing police vessel. Though it didn't manage to keep them from getting arrested, it made for a damn good story and sparked a covert investigation, which reached the desk of one Ken Edmundo after mere seconds of its inception.

But no one on the side of the victors knew anything about that. Their fight had really only begun—with each other.

"Was that really necessary?" Shun pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, but as he had already performed the agitated tic three times in the course of mere minutes he ended up squashing the lenses against his eyes and the glasses slid back down anyway.

"Not really," Clair admitted as Giovanni , behind him, folded the Vita flag to put it back away. "But they won't be bothering us again."

"They wouldn't have bothered us if we had outrun them, either," Shun countered sternly. "I thought we agreed to make use of your boat due to its speed."

"It also comes with nice turrets, don't you think?" asked Clair. "Let's just consider what happened back there a demonstration of my preparedness."

"Preparedness for what? Getting us all killed? Those people have nowhere to go and--"

"Oh, so now you care about the plight of the lawless?" Clair giggled. "The scavengers and parasites have your sympathy? Don't make me laugh. Just be grateful I didn't have them killed."

"I would not have shot to kill." J spoke up from the controls of the boat. "It goes against my programming. Even for sinking the two boats, I will have to type written apologies to the city director."

"I'll do it, J," replied Kyoko to appease him, more concerned about the tension between members of her party than the legal repercussions of admittedly juvenile behavior on the young don's part. She, too, was worried about the people in the lifeboats, but certain other people's welfare came first. In particular, one young man stood out in her mind, but they would never reach him if their group dissolved less than a day into the expedition. Her own explosion of the previous morning had, at least in her mind, been completely forgotten.

"All I'm saying is," Shun persisted, "that you have to consider everyone's position here. Not all of us are as invincible as you, Vampire."

Clair's shoulders shook. "Are you _scared_, Dictator Aurora? Worried about getting another demotion? What would that constitute, I wonder? Picking up the trash the trash people create on their lunch breaks? Sorting the Underground's sewage?" With every new option presented, Shun's right eye twitched and his mouth grew more taut. His hands balled into fists. "Any way you look at it, you're going to get in trouble again for just getting away. You should have considered that first. Unless, of course, you're counting on being bailed out again by your little broth--"

He was cut off as Shun, finally reaching his limit, darted out an arm and grabbed the don's collar, yanking him close and pulling back an arm to punch. No sooner had his fingers closed around the plum-colored cloth, though, than the blond man found a gun pointed at his head by his victim's companion.

"I wouldn't go any further if I were you," Giovanni warned Shun, frowning. "Vampire values his personal space. Now back off. Before I make you."

Reluctantly Shun let go of the boy's shirt and backed away a few paces, but the fight had not quite left him. "You tell us to trust you, but you carry a gun even around friends?" he asked. "Is that not somewhat contradictory?"

"I don't think so," Giovanni growled, stepping in front of Clair to shield him. "After all, we aren't all friends here."

"Gentlemen, that's quite enough," Kyoko began saucily, but Monica put in much more emphatic opinions.

"That's IT!!! I have HAD it with both of you! YOU—" she jabbed a finger at Clair "--and YOU, who should be more grateful I invited you—" she turned to Shun "--both of you, to your rooms THIS INSTANT! I don't want fights on my rescue squad! Jeez, how are we supposed to work together if we can't even talk without yelling at each other? You boys with your stupid guns! Go to your rooms and cool off!!" She glared at both of them when neither made a move to obey. "NOW!!!"

"No need to shout," Clair objected with a smile, hands in the air. "I get it. I've been a bad little boy, so I have to go take a time-out. Come on, Giovanni. You're the one waving the silly little toy around. Let's go pay for being such bad boys." Waving to Monica over his shoulder, he retreated, Giovanni following in bemusement. Seeing her orders had "worked" on one of the arguing parties, Monica glared expectantly at Shun, who refused to budge.

J, for unfathomable reasons of his own, chose in this tense time to offer Kyoko his opinion. "A man only acts when he is prepared to face the consequences of his actions. If Shun Aurora did not want to get in further trouble, he should not have come."

A muscle spasmed in Shun's cheek, made him grit his teeth. "You all seem to be overlooking one crucial detail in your assessments of me: _I came_. I knew going into this madness that I wasn't going to return and face no charges of any kind, and I am prepared to own up for my actions as I have always done in the past. Never have I acted in any way contrary to what seemed right to my judgment at the time. And, despite what you all may believe, I happen to--" He swallowed and adjusted his glasses again. "I happen to love my brother. I happen to be concerned about him. For that reason, and no other, I agreed to come along on this admittedly asinine expedition. In that manner, I am the same as all of you. So I respectfully request to be treated as such." Casting a glance around the group, he too headed for his cabin. "Please accord me at least this one courtesy. For Daisuke's sake." He descended.

The girls and J were silent for several long moments, staring after him in the doorway. Monica snapped out of it first and returned to bouncing ideas for rescue methods off of J's superhuman sense of judgment. Kyoko pulled her jacket tighter around her body and stared back whence they had come. Judoh could no longer be seen on the horizon, even as that morning's thin black line. It was simply gone, swallowed by the distance. As if it had never existed. As if she would never see it again.

"You are being silly," she scolded herself, and went to talk things over with J and Monica. Best to keep her eyes on the goal and nothing else. After all, Daisuke was the only thing binding her little group together.

O0o0o0o0o0

After coming all the way through the tunnels in secret, the last thing Daisuke wanted to do was eavesdrop on board the Celestials' ship, but Usagi had insisted her master should not be disturbed and thus they should wait outside the door. In secret, of course; the Celestials wanted to shut down her master's city and so she did not trust them.

So while she kept lookout down the long, dazzlingly clean hallway, Daisuke remained with an ear pressed against the door to what presumably was a conference room. He had come this way, and he would be damned if he didn' t figure out what in the world was going on.

"You suggest we were deceived?"

"I suggest that it is possible. In a way, does it not prove the people of Magnagalia are in their hearts humane creatures for such tunnels to exist? Seeing the problem, well-meaning individuals have devised ways to free their fellow men from the torments imposed by their oppressive government. They fear the government and thus cannot stand against it, but in secret—ah, in secret the ways of humanity are always revealed." The voice, a slightly throaty tenor, sounded vaguely familiar to Daisuke, but he could not place it. With a start, he realized what stood out about it to him: the speaker had a pronounced, well-groomed Judoh accent. "I suggest the proper course of action is not abandonment of the city but thoughtful reconstruction of legislative, executive, and judicial offices."

"It's their own responsibility to rule themselves," objected a third voice; murmurs of consent rippled in its wake. Buoyed by the ripples, it continued. "We do not seek to be tyrants."

"Yet sometimes the observer sees more plainly than he who remains in the thick of the storm," the Judoh-speaker protested mildly. "What of the future of Magnagalia, if she is left to fend for herself? Bereft of resources, the evil and corruption will only spread as her citizens struggle to survive. It is our duty—yes, I claim membership among you—to keep that from happening. We have the means to do so. To do otherwise—is that not the real evil?"

_He's good_, Daisuke appraised with a raised brow, but all other analysis ended as another voice spoke up.

"Leorza, get out." The woman's cool, clean voice had not changed from what little he could remember of it. "I will not discuss these things with you. Coming from your mouth, these words do not mean what they should."

"I disagree," said another. "Leorza spent more time with the humans than did you, Nona. If we are to attempt to help these people, we will need his counsel."

"Why has he chosen to return, though? Did you consider that?" The woman sounded half-choked. "How did he spend those long years when we feared him dead?"

"I see my presence here must be reconsidered. I understand entirely. If you'll excuse me, then, I shall make myself scarce until you decide. Until then, my friends..." Daisuke was pulled away from the door and around the corner by Usagi, mouth covered by her bloody hand. "My master comes," she hissed. "We will not have much time to speak with him."

"Tss ith nt vry dgnfd." He had wanted to say "This is not very dignified" but lost the vowels somewhere. Then he saw Usagi's master and lost the capacity of speech altogether. All his mind could manage to wring out of its jumbled confusion was _I know this man from somewhere...his face...I know this face..._

But he could not for the life of him remember why.


	6. Questions, Rebels

**Episode 6: Questions (Rebels)**

Even in dreams, the voice and words made him stiffen in place, body rigid at attention while his insides knotted with fear.

"_My beloved son." _Never did praise follow those words, he knew. His only reminders of the man's love came through correction. _"What have you done to yourself?"_

_He turned to face the man with equal parts pride and dread, the awful silence that he should have filled with some brilliant rejoinder instead ringing loudly in his ears. Already he began to feel sick—it was not after all so much a dream as a memory, and his foresight of what would happen next made him want to tear his feet from their alloted positions and run far, far away from the circumstance. "Don't you like it, Papa?" he asked, his voice stretched wire-taut even to his own perception. _

"_Why?" asked the tall man. It was not in response to his son's question but a query of its own. _

_Forcing himself to keep a straight face, he replied as evenly as he could, "It came with the earrings." As he spoke, his lip throbbed; it was still tender, and made clear speech difficult, but he was determined not to mumble or sound cowed in any way. "I can't do as I like with my own body?"_

"_There are appearances to be considered," the man replied. "You will not earn the respect of your followers if you do not look capable of handling your responsibilities. That object interferes with your professionalism. Remove it, and let the hole close up."_

"_I don't want to." More eloquent expressions failed him, to his shame. "I—I like it, Papa."_

"_Clair. Take it off." The voice became less of a gentle command and more of an order. "Vampire must not rule by force of appearance but by action. Remove it."_

_His eyes dropped, his jaw loosened. "Yes." Slowly, gently, he reached up to his bottom lip and gingerly slid out the small silver ring. "Is that good?"_

"_The earrings as well." Two larger rings joined their companion in his palm; he closed his fingers over them reluctantly. "Remember this, my beloved son. You do not exist for yourself alone. In everything you do, you must think of the family. Report to Mauro immediately. You will be under house arrest, studying, until I decide you have learned your responsibilities properly."_

"_In that case I'll be holding committee meetings in the basement until I die," he drawled bitterly, face twisting in a desperate smile. "Because I'll never learn enough for you. Papa, I'm..." He turned around, bowed his black head. "You think I'm no good, don't you?" Hands shaking, he waited for the dissuasion he thought—hoped?--was certain to come._

_But the man remained silent, and in the silence, he knew. Trying to sigh casually, he moved his hand like he was wiping his mouth but instead slid the ring back into place. He had no intention of following the directions of a man who couldn't respect him. "Then I guess I'd better get to work."_

He rolled over, pulling the covers with him, and drew his legs up closer to his torso. Both pillows had fallen to the floor during the course of the night; he rested his head on his crossed arms and moaned softly, still dreaming.

_Another day, not long after. Another place, but the same uncomfortable company. The ring cupped his lip like it had since the day he'd persuaded Giovanni to take him to the parlor. Such trips had already become a thing of the past, and his bodyguard count had tripled. One of the new men, a college graduate named Ian, he could already tell would prove to be a valuable asset in the future. What with that mind...he himself would never have to trouble himself with boring details again. The other man, though...seemed a little flighty._

_No, no, he had to focus on the man before him, not the men waiting just outside the door. The man who was slowly drawing the knife, cutting...he watched as the blood splashed, drop by drop, into the goblet and accepted the glass. Tipping his head back slightly, he forced himself not to look and sipped. _

_He couldn't taste the blood, just the boldness of the wine, but held the sip in his mouth all the same. He wouldn't accept being dominated the way he had his entire childhood. He was eighteen and a man now. And he wanted the right to make his own decisions, even if no one in the world would ever know they had been made. To be certain, he wanted the succession of the title, but he would do with it as he chose._

_He couldn't fool his father, though. "Swallow." Tipping his head forward so the mouthful of liquid sloshed against his teeth, he did as the man commanded. The flavor had begun to diffuse, and he fancied he could taste the blood now, rust on his tongue making him shiver. _

"_All the way." Shutting his eyes, he obeyed, if only to get that horrible tang off his palate. But the aura of the blood lingered, staining his mouth, and he licked his lips. _

"_You see how simple it is? It is not such a bitter pill, my beloved son. Learn to serve now so that you will rule better when the time comes. Curb the impulsive behavior that threatens to ruin years of our hard work. Above all, do not resent your fate, for it is a glorious one."_

"_I don't, Papa," he whispered, and he meant it. No, it was not fate he resented._

The blankets now covered his head as well; his limbs huddled even closer together. A shadow slipped from the adjacent bedroom into his, stopping momentarily to replace one of the fallen pillows gently before stepping into the hallway. Headrest reclaimed, he burrowed deep into it.

_His father was an old man, but he had never realized it until this moment; nor had he fully understood the helplessness such age conveyed. Though still crowned with dignity, his father's form seemed to shrivel in the dim light of his sickroom. For a moment, he was ashamed of himself: _this_ was the creature who had kept him cowed all his life?_

"_Hey, Papa. It's me. Are you feeling better today?" He laughed nervously, unsure of what to say to a man who might not even be listening. _

_The silence of the room pressed down on him; he tried to fill the hole. "I finished the book on stocks. Sounds simple enough; I might play with that a bit later. Shogun called to see how you were doing, the hypocrite. You filled his power vacuum and he claims to be concerned anyway? What an idiot." What was he saying? The man wouldn't care about any of that. He would only care about..._

"_My...beloved son." Here it came. Wasted hands took his own; had those same hands really once hit him with such force? "Did I not warn you about...changing your appearance?"_

"_What, this?" He fingered the feathery bangs, now dyed cornflower blue. "I wanted to be pretty for you, Papa. I'm wearing my best jewelry, too. Don't you like it?" His broad smile showed off the lip ring._

"_Be careful about...taunting your subordinates, Clair. Vampire is king, but kings can be overthrown. Exercise caution."_

_He laughed hollowly, without smiling. "I'll make you proud, don't worry. Everyone will have to admit the strength of Company Vita once I'm through. I'll keep the board happy. I'll work hard. You'll see."_

"_Such overconfidence is not an asset."_

"_Damn it, old man!" He yanked his hand free, no longer able to even laugh off the slight. "I make you a promise and you still aren't satisfied? What do you want me to do?"_

"_You know...what I expect of you."_

_His shoulders shook. "Yes," he hissed, "I know. But I can't do it. I'd be anything for you, anyone, except for one person. You." His voice twisted with bitterness; he spat the words instead of saying them. "And that's who you want me to be, isn't it? You don't like me because I'm not you._

"_But I won't be you." He smiled, at last able to offer something amid the venom of the past year that would make his father happy. "No, I'll be _better_ than you. That's the only promise I'll make. Is that good enough, Papa?" He waited for a reply, but the man who lectured incessantly when his son wanted quiet would not now speak. "Is it?" Still nothing. _

_Unable to stand having the truth hanging unspoken, he replied for the silent man. "No. It's not. Because it never is." He buried his face in his hands, ashamed of he knew not what. Losing his control? Letting himself be trapped by this wasted, ruined, weak old man? Or was it only his own inadequacy in the face of expectations he both strove for and hated?_

"_My...beloved son. You shame the family."_

_He sniffed, standing. "Go to hell, old man." Scowling, he stalked out of the room._

_When he returned the next morning, his father was dead._

O0o0o0o0o0o0

He woke with unintelligible speech on his lips, heaving and panting feverishly. Delirium danced like candlelight in his violet eyes, but as he drew conscious, shuddering breaths it too wasted away until finally it died. Why tonight, of all nights? Certainly not because he'd let himself be ordered around by that child; her bossiness amused him and so he played along with the game. He hadn't, to his knowledge, lost ground to that damn Aurora either. So why those days, those memories?

Combing his still-dual-colored hair with damp fingers, Clair giggled to himself as his body fell under his own control once more. "You can't beat me, Papa," he hissed spitefully. "I'll show you. Wait and see. Company Vita will expand further than even you ever dreamed. And I'll be the one who made it happen." The idea had occurred to him that day, as the other members of his crew began to worry about the particulars of the rescue mission. It fell, logically, that if they were to enter Magnagalia illegally and in the company of wanted men then their search should begin in a suitable locale: namely, the realm of Magnagalia's enormous underworld syndicate. From there they could gather information about the state of the city until J's telemeter pinpointed Daisuke's location. And then they could make a more concrete plan.

Clair personally thought most of the "wait-and-see" mentality was total bunk on Shun Aurora's part as a cover for the man's cowardice, but disagreeing on intentions did not preclude his approving certain aspects of the idea. In particular, maneuvering within underworld circles appealed to him; it was the world in which he had been raised and on top of which, at least in Judoh, he thrived. Should he find the opportunity to strike a few deals if they ran afoul of Magnagalian officials...it would seem that Vita would indebt itself to the syndicate, but slowly the syndicate would come to bow to Vita. All he needed was patience and a chance. Nonintervention treaties signed by dead politicians held no special meaning for Clair Leonelli. Aside from the possible difficulty of maintaining communication, he saw no problems in operating a multi-city empire. Fear was fear and respect was respect no matter where on the globe you sailed.

The boat hit a particularly large wave. Ugh, whose idea had sailing been, anyway? He filed away a mental memo to have one of Vita's choppers painted something more inconspicuous than red for future stealthy maneuvering.

Anyway, there was no use in trying to sleep immediately after a fit like that; he felt certain the dreams would return again and was eager for such experiences to stay buried. Sliding his feet into his shoes as he stood, Clair stretched and headed up to the deck, giving Giovanni's adjacent room a cursory glance. Everything within was still; the bed seemed strangely flat. Couldn't the bodyguard sleep, either? That was good. He would have someone to talk to, if Giovanni were already up. Had the man remained asleep, in fact, the don might have woken him up anyway for company.

"...but if they've cut the power already I don't know how we're going to get in safely. The last thing they'll need is more bodies in their city, consuming what's left of the water and breathing what's left of the clean air." Damn. Dictator Aurora apparently didn't find the gentle rocking of the waves conducive to slumber either. "They likely won't be running full patrol squads, though, so we may stand a chance anyway."

"Yeah," Giovanni grunted; Clair slipped out of the door and crouched in the shadows the cabin area cast on the deck of the boat to watch. He'd announce his presence when he felt like it, not before. "We could also try going in with all guns blazing, of course. Liven up the place a bit."

Shun's head jerked dangerously; Giovanni laughed. "That was a joke, mister. No matter how much Vampire may want to use those carts of fireworks, I prefer my head without fur, thank you very much."

"You honestly think they're going to bother changing the prisoners after losing the high-end systems?"

"Man, can you not take a joke."

Shun was silent for a moment, his face reflective in the moonlight. "We've met before, haven't we?" he asked quietly; Clair sucked in a breath. The man had almost _killed_ Giovanni and he couldn't even bother to remember a face? Though guilty of many crimes, Vampire of Company Vita had to one crucial element of humanity remained true: he had always considered the people around him as _people_, not just game pieces. Yes, he used and threatened and sometimes even killed, but he did so with the full understanding that he was dealing with living, thinking (though some gave him cause to doubt the latter) human beings. _"My beloved son, respect those whose services you wish to win and they will be yours._" Something like that. This consideration had made his respect for the human race in general plummet, however. Dealing with them in groups, they were hard to combat. Dealing with them individually, seeing the way they perceived themselves...they were all such idiots. And Shun Aurora was no exception.

Giovanni, still laughing, slid on his sunglasses despite the darkness of the open ocean. "Ah, you could say that. More briefly than I wanted to at the time, let me tell you." Scratching his head, he gave Shun a cocky grin. "I had less hair then."

"Yes," agreed Shun, apparently remembering. "You did." He returned to staring off into the distance. "It's strange, the paths people take. Those who should have nothing in common find themselves sharing a goal."

"You don't worry I might not have taken 'no' as an answer to killing you?" Giovanni slid a hand into his jacket like he was going for his gun, and Clair choked back a laugh. The bodyguard nodded in his direction, and he realized Giovanni was putting on the whole show just for him. He nodded back.

"It's possible, but hardly a valid qualifier for your presence. You did not know until arriving at the port that I would be coming along." So he didn't scare easily. It didn't surprise Clair. The tough ones were more fun, anyway. Where was the amusement in making mice scurry?

"Good evening, Shun and Giovanni." J, leaving the control room, approached the pair stiffly; Clair sucked in a breath and froze. What would his presence, suddenly discovered by the observant android, look like to Shun? He didn't care what the man thought of him, but a marginal trust at least had to be founded were they to accomplish anything. The fact that every time he talked to Shun he ended up goading and taunting in a most uncooperative fashion was entirely the other man's fault.

"Hey, old man," Giovanni repliedcasually. Shun refrained from addressing the machine. "What's going on?"

"All systems are operating at fullest capacity. We should arrive in Magnagalia after one more night." The android paused, processing something. "And unexpected movement has occurred towards the stern."

Both men's heads swerved, their eyes locked on Clair; the young man stood up calmly, though his heart was pounding. "Hey," he greeted them. "Don't mind me."

"What were you--"

J interrupted Shun's outburst. "I did not mean him. There is someone else on board."

Shun stepped backwards, eyes wary; Giovanni drew his gun from his coat and moved to cover Clair while the boy backed towards him. "Get below deck, Vampire," the bodyguard breathed as their paths crossed. "Now."

"What's going--"

"Get DOWN!" Flinging himself over Clair and dragging him to the ground, Giovanni let off two shots at something that had just darted into view. Clair felt his head crack against the deck, saw stars for a moment, then coughed: Giovanni's weight on his slender frame bore down heavily. He couldn't breathe. Stifling, he pushed up on the man's body and demanded in no uncertain terms to perhaps be protected a little less thoroughly.

To his immense surprise, the entire weight lifted. "Dammit, werewolf," Giovanni sighed reproachfully, standing and putting away his weapon. "Scared me half to death."

Stepping into full moonlight, the tall muscular man blinked slowly and replied. "I had to remain hidden. I was not invited."

"Hey, Boma," Clair greeted him from the deck, rolling over and standing. Now that his life was no longer presumably threatened, the situation became near-hysterical. Why hadn't anyone considered this before? Of course the wolf-man would have come along. They were going back to his hometown, after all, so he would be useful. And Daisuke...Boma had some odd loyalty fixation about Daisuke. Clair should have figured it out sooner.

"Now I see," J reported as Boma walked over to join the group proper, causing Shun to back even further away. "My sensors were not faulty when they reported human movement and heat in the office. I must tell Antonia not to worry."

"I don't see why this is so amusing to all of you," Shun remarked angrily. "He is not here on invitation!"

"Neither are we, mister," Giovanni grinned. "And haven't we come in handy?" Shun muttered something under his breath but made no formal reply.

"That's what I hate about you," Clair told Shun, smiling just to get on the man's nerves even more. "You don't consider all your options." _My beloved son, be open-minded to the movements of both your enemies and your friends. Then you shall never be off-guard and vulnerable. My beloved son, follow the path I have laid out for you. _"People who only see the ideas they came up with themselves really make me throw up. Welcome aboard, Boma."

o0o0o0o0o0o0

Phia opened the door expecting to see one man and found another. "Inspector," she greeted the man courteously, recognizing both the face and the badge he displayed. "How may I help you?"

"Where's Shun Aurora?" Edmundo didn't like mincing words. He didn't like asking questions he knew the answers too, either, but his job was his job even if every minute he squandered with the tiny details bought the very people he sought more time. Ironically, the system was working in his favor this day. "Did you help him run away?"

"I woke up yesterday morning and he was gone."

"You didn't report it. We had to get the news from the place he's working at. I have a warrant for your arrest as a conspirator."

"Detective Edmundo, I can't say I--"

"But." Edmundo sidled his way into the apartment and shut the door behind him, sighing. He couldn't believe he was about to say the words on the tip of his tongue. "I'm going to overlook that if you help me with something else. What did you agree on with the Special Unit?"

"I beg your pardon?"

She was determined not to make this easy for him, wasn't she? He sighed again. If it hadn't been for that promise Christina had forced him to make... "Monica was here," he said heavily. "Am I right?" Lips drawn taut, Phia nodded after a moment's consideration. "She wanted to save Daisuke and thought Shun could help." Phia nodded again.

"Man, I can't believe this..." He let what little professional demeanor he possessed break, sitting on Phia's couch. "Tell me everything you know. I'm...damn it, I'm helping them get away."

"There's nothing more to tell." She didn't believe him. And she was lying. "Please, go."

"Miss Oliveira..."

"Phia."

"Phia," he repeated blockily, uncomfortable with calling a near-stranger woman by her first name, especially when he didn't know why she'd insisted. "The kid's my...I'm looking after the kid. You think I want the city to know she helped Shun Aurora? I've got my own interests, damn them, just like you've got yours."

"Mine cannot be solved by the police," Phia responded firmly. "Please."

Edmundo swore to himself, less out of anger and more out of tired frustration. "Look, the longer this takes for me, the better. I have all day to sit here and wait until you tell me everything. Officially, I'm questioning the witness, but I really...oh, here." He handed her a folded sheet of paper. "She left this." He waited while the woman scanned Monica's letter. "What do you make of that?"

She looked up. "Only that she's concerned, and that she's put a lot of confidence in you. No one who distrusts gives that much detail in anything."

He got the hint but pretended not to. "What did they plan on doing?" he pressed. "Who all did they take?"

"Inspector Edmundo." She inclined her head in a faint hint that he should stand, which he ignored. "I understand your concern but cannot help you. Should you return tomorrow, I will be more than happy to come with you. Arrest me if you must, but I beg you, not today. I am expecting company from...out of town. You have caught me at a bad time."

"I have, eh? All the more reason to stick around. Your guests might know something."

Her gamble had backfired. He could read it all across her face. For some reason, there was nothing so pitiful in his mind than a grown woman trying not to cry, and the look in Phia's eyes alone nearly made him get up and leave in shame and embarrassment. But another woman earlier had grabbed his arm, fighting back tears as she pleaded with him to protect her daughter; and since he had buckled to her he could not now have sympathy for this one. Phia Oliveira was hiding something, and as long as that something remained hidden he could not come up with a proper plan to save Monica from the repercussions of her actions. No judge would look kindly on anyone, even a child, who'd helped Shun Aurora.

He tried switching tactics. "Look, to help Monica I'm going to have to also help Shun, much as I hate the bastard." She bit her lip, and he realized tacking on his personal opinion had been very, very stupid. "So if you don't want him to get in too much trouble either, going along with me is your best bet."

"Please. Leave." Her low voice choked. "Can't you give him his chance?"

"What chance?" Edmundo sighed, but a knock on the door interrupted him. Phia jumped noticeably but did not open it. "Go ahead," he told her. "Let them in. Don't mind me."

She stared from him to the door, uncertain. Heaving his heaviest sigh of the morning, Edmundo lifted himself from the sofa and placed his hand on the doorknob, turned it...

A clicking sound behind him made his head turn. "Don't," Phia begged, the hand with which she held her gun to his head wavering slightly. "You don't want to. Trust me, please. For Monica's sake, do not open that door."

"You are definitely arrested, lady," Edmundo groused, nudging the door open wide with his foot. No shot rang out, but another gun appeared.

"Beetle..." Mauro, too, was shaking as he pointed his weapon. "You betrayed us?"

o0o0o0o0o0o0

"You have Nona's eyes," the Celestial with the Judoh accent named Leorza commented, appraising Daisuke with scrutinizing, penetrating eyes. "Had they shown your picture or given your name, you would not have been rejected as barter, I think."

"Makes you wonder, then, why they didn't," Daisuke remarked, smiling at the man but wracking his brain for another name to put to the face. He hadn't seen it recently, but he definitely recognized it. Who? "Any ideas?"

The man returned Daisuke's smile minus the good humor. "Several. Trinity can be most mercurial at times. She is never content to play one side when several are at her disposal. It makes my life rather difficult."

"Sorry, don't know the name." He shot a look around the hallway, hoped they wouldn't be discovered by any Celestials before he got at least a little more information. "I'm stupid like that."

"She calls herself Baroness." The smile had vanished, but now genuine amusement danced in his eyes. "The latest and, in her mind, greatest heir to the rulership of Magnagalia's crime syndicate."

"Judoh has Vampire; Magnagalia has a baroness."

The man flinched briefly. "Indeed." Realizing his own reaction, his shoulders sagged slightly. "You do not need to drop hints with me. Yes, I am from your city."

"Yeah, the way you talk gives you away. What's up? Didn't you like Judoh?" Daisuke shrugged ruefully. "We do our best to please, but some people...well, you know."

"My options in Judoh exhausted themselves, but on a whole I look forward to returning someday. But the topic of this brief intercourse must be you. You are Daisuke Aurora of the City Safety Management Agency Special Unit, are you not?"

"If I've got Nona's eyes, I must be," Daisuke pointed out. "Otherwise I'm Shun, and I haven't got the hair for that." Behind Leorza, Usagi's eyes fluttered shut and her chest relaxed; Daisuke tensed.

"Do not toy with me, as I said. I have been asked to determine if you are fit for certain activities; if you are, you are to accompany Usagi and if not, I will freely allow you to reenter the conference with me and you may make your case to the Celestials."

"Sounds like you were doing a decent job yourself."

Leorza ignored him. "What made you qualified to partner with your machine?"

Well, _that_ was unexpected; Daisuke's mind, off-guard, had to swerve to get back on the track of the conversation. "Who, J? Aw, I don't know. How well we clicked, I guess. We complement each other. He's a stuffy know-it-all; I go with the flow. That kind of thing."

"So chemistry can exist between machines and men?"

"If it's programmed that way. A machine with sophisticated enough AI responds to things like a person would. You leave Judoh after the android ban or something?" But then he wouldn't recognize that face...

"That is sufficient. I am not certain whether to tell you if you passed or failed, Daisuke Aurora. Usagi, hand him over to Trinity to test this 'chemistry.'"

"Yes, sir." She grabbed Daisuke's arm, eyes glassy with sleep. "Come."

"What the--" Her knives crossed over his neck. "Um, okay. Nice meeting you, Leorza."

"The same to you, Daisuke Aurora. And should you ever find your way back to Judoh, which I currently doubt..."

"Yeah?"

The Celestial smiled again, his white mustache curving upwards as well, and dared to show his cards. "Tell my son to stop shaming his family."


	7. Research, Ego

**Episode 7: Research (Ego)**

Somewhere between listening to Shogun's radio and waking up three days later aboard Clair Leonelli's speedboat yacht to discover a wanted Magnagalian emigrant standing on the bow like a masthead, Monica Gabriel's life and plans had spiraled out of her hands. And it really made her blood boil.

"We didn't ask him to come for a _reason_," she complained to Kyoko over breakfast, stabbing viciously into her oatmeal with a spoon like it was responsible for Boma's coming. "Doesn't he understand when people try to be considerate?"

"I think it's sweet of him," Kyoko replied, trying to calm the girl down. "He cares more about Daisuke than his own safety."

"You can't deny the fact that he will be useful," Shun added from the other end of the table, sipping coffee. "He is familiar with the city and a skilled fighter."

"You sang a different tune last night, Dictator," Giovanni called from the kitchen mockingly; once again, his duties as Vampire's caretaker had expanded to 'cook and dishmaid.'

Shun grit his teeth at the jibe and took another mouthful of coffee. "Please stop referring to me that way. I find it offensive for you to dig up the past, especially since your own records are less than spotless."

Clair, licking his spoon clean like a bored child, stopped in mid-lick; his eyes slid to Shun with his tongue poised against the smooth metal. "Yes, but we don't care. There's the difference. At any rate, I agree with you about Boma." He put down his spoon. "If nothing else, he makes the game more interesting." He chuckled to himself. "He has a habit of doing that."

"He certainly does," Shun agreed tersely. "Excuse me." Pushing his chair away from the table, he took his dishes to the small sink and deposited them on the counter for Giovanni to attend to, then forced himself to walk calmly away.

The wind buffered his head the instant he stepped out on deck, blowing his pale hair around his head in a wild halo. Smoothing it with one hand, he leaned on the railing and watched Boma, perched stalwartly on the bow, for a few long moments. He had just decided to retire to his cabin when the dark man spoke.

"You are not welcome here."

"By you or everyone else?" Shun inquired, irony tugging on the corners of his mouth.

"By them. You came for Daisuke?"

Shun wished the other man would turn around. Speaking to his back felt so disconcerting. "I did."

"Then I do not mind."

"You're the only one who believes me."

"You have no reason to lie, no motive to betray again."

"Don't I?" Shun tilted his head back, removing his glasses and enjoying the wind. What would the citizens of Judoh say if they saw him now, disheveled by the elements and isolated by even the lowest denizens of the underworld, with only a genetically altered serial murderer for company? What would Phia say if she knew the bile that had been filling him with every slight, every crack in armor he had thought impenetrable? It was his fault they upset him so. He had allowed them to rankle him, and for his weakness he suffered. "You know as well as I that there are worse things the justice system does than kill a man."

"That does not justify anything." Boma dropped his mask, viewed Shun with red lupine eyes. "What makes the beast lies within."

"What if I can't change that?" asked Shun, repulsed by the change in his colleague's appearance but, in a broken moment, driven to confide.

"Then there is no hope for you. Do they upset you because you are ashamed or because you do not like remembering your loss?"

This had gotten a bit too personal. He did not need to be lectured by a convict. Shun regretted his lapse into self-disclosure. "Both. Who can blame me? You certainly cannot. You've done the exact same thing."

"Except for you, there really is a chance." The human face shimmered back into place atop Boma's broad shoulders. "Your Usagi is real. Find him, Shun Aurora, and take your second chance."

He'd forgotten the man delighted in overdramatics. Shun sighed to himself as he spoke. "What do you think I'm doing?"

Boma scrutinized the face before him. "I cannot be sure. For you do not yourself know." Turning, he crossed his arms again and resumed his impassive stare across the wide swaths of ocean laid out before the craft.

For his part, Shun returned to his cabin as per his usual plan, unwilling to associate with his fellows. But voices questioned his motives and intent anyway, and he could not run away from them. They came from a pain in his gut.

O0o0o0o0o0o0

Magnagalia was granted a three-week period of amnesty in which its delegate, Leorza, would act as go-between for the Celestials and the government to work out an agreement satisfactory to both parties. Said delegate celebrated his victory with an old friend, but she did not seem to share his delight.

"Don't tell me you wanted them all to die, Nona," Leorza prodded gently; they had left the ship with permission from her companions and sat on the beach watching the vessel bob up and down instead.

While she looked perfectly natural sitting reflectively on the sand, her elder companion stood out awkwardly, pristinely slicked snowy hair and mustache more suited for some dark drawing room than the outside elements. "No, I'm glad we'll be able to help someone for real at last," she conceded without looking at him. "You know what's bothering me."

"Much to my chagrin, I assure you. Nona...why don't you trust me any more?"

"You helped my brother. You helped my son. Both of them were hurt so badly, so badly..." She ignored a single tear sliding down her cheek in the hope that failing to acknowledge it would make it somehow disappear. "And you make me think about it."

"Nona, dear, you can't blame me for helping my friends." He took out his handkerchief and blotted away the tear for her; she flinched at his touch. "And whose fault is it that your son suffered, hmm?"

"It can't be me," she insisted stonily. "Don't say things like that. It was you. You and your stupid machine...and Marius...you..."

"Marius had to end like that, Nona." His words were gentle, but their meaning cut at her. "Besides, all that is behind you now. You tired of it. You missed your real family. Aren't you happier now? I want you to be happy, Nona."

"I'm happy." She didn't sound it. "And so are my sons. Both of them are very, very happy."

"I'm sure."

"Leorza, what do you want me to believe?" She turned to him desperately. "Do you want to console me or hurt me?"

"Which do you want, Nona?"

She closed her eyes. "I want you to go away." Her eternal solution to every problem.

He stood in compliance. "I'm still your friend, Nona. I always have been. Please don't forget that." With that, he walked away, hands in his pockets.

Lying back on the sand, she stared up at the sun and fingered the amulet around her neck. She could feel the motion of the waves thrumming through her body, delighted in the warm sunlight like a lizard on a rock. One with her surroundings, her mind slipped away as the amulet pulsed in her fingers.

"I'm happy..." she whispered through tears as she let herself go. "I have to be."

o0o0o0o0o0o0

Though he'd been in many a fistfight before, Daisuke had never had an audience before and found it both exhilarating and annoying. Exhilarating, because those who cheered for him boosted his already considerable confidence. Annoying, because the other half of the arena kept trying to distract him. After all, they had money resting against him.

"Damn, you're slow!" Whipping his hips around, his foot connected solidly with his opponent's head; metal crunched beneath the impact, and the machine staggered. Behind it, another android readied the finishing punch and delivered, splintering skin and pistons as Daisuke's opponent dropped with a hole through its back. Half the stadium went wild as Daisuke mopped his brow and flashed the crowd a grin; the other yelled curses and threats. They'd lost a lot of money on the last fight, and would have to bet even more on the next one to save face.

"Not bad," said the woman with the lab coat, coming up to him to raise his arm in victory but jotting notes on her clipboard first. As she held his arm aloft, declaring 'D' and his partner the winners of yet another bout, she asked him, "How did the last one feel?"

"He's no J," Daisuke admitted, nodding at the machine who'd delivered the final blow. "But he ain't bad. His reflexes could be a little better; he doesn't pick up on tactics too quickly. It's an AI bug more than a physical thing."

"I see." He seemed to be breathing more heavily than he had before. "Do you need a break? I have enough data to start experimenting with the next level now."

"Well, lady, that depends on what 'next level' means," Daisuke replied offhandedly. "Care to clarify?"

"Usagi gets a chance to play with the machines while you help me pair her with one."

"Sounds good to me." Letting himself pant a little more now that he was out of immediate danger, he strolled over to the sidelines where the blue-haired girl had been watching him expressionlessly. "Hey, Usagi. Your turn, if that's okay."

"Very well." Her eyes closed, her swords appeared. "Where is the enemy?"

"Hold on. They're coming."

"...and in the next battle, this small girl will take on the Flower of Death!" The woman in the lab coat was yelling into a microphone. "All bets close three minutes in!"

"I will finish it in two," Usagi murmured, walking trancelike into the ring. Daisuke hollered at her back that she'd better not, because then all the criminals would get angry, and flopped down on the bench she had vacated.

The woman joined him shortly afterwards. "Just tell me what you notice about the way she works with her machine, Daisuke. I want this to be flawless."

"Um, if I pick right, do I get to leave?" He dared to question his fate. "I mean, I've been at this for over an hour and I still don't know my stakes in all this. I've just been following your plan though you haven't really told me anything, even your name."

"Most call me Baroness." She smiled at him, ran a painted fingernail down his cheek teasingly. "But you can call me Trinity."

"Leorza's pal?"

"He spoke of me?" The fight began, with Usagi and the machine Daisuke had been partnered to combating a grossly female android. "Hopefully he was kind, the naughty boy. Anyway, the plans for you...there aren't any, really. I'm hoping you'll decide to stick around once I'm through with you, though. Thus far I'm finding you to be quite entertaining. This is becoming one of the biggest attractions we've pulled in a long time, and considering how little advance notice everyone was given I'd say it's a huge success. You could settle down here very comfortably. I would make it worth your while."

"But if I decide to go instead? If I decide to visit my mother or head back to my hometown?"

She smiled, playing with a button on her coat, then to give her fingers something to do lit a cigarette. In the arena, Usagi thrust her blades through the enemy machine's head: one minute, forty-seven seconds. "You won't."

o0o0o0o0o0o0

The floor buckled, the sky flashed and crashed, and Monica bit off a scream as she covered her head with a blanket. "We will arrive in Magnagalia in approximately twelve hours," J had reported earlier that night when the little rescue group had checked up on him. "Sailing has been smooth but storms now seem imminent. I will adjust our speed appropriately." At the time she'd scoffed at the idea of a storm stopping them. Now she was foreseeing her death, penniless and forgotten, at the bottom of the lonely ocean floor. She didn't want to die, not yet, not while her mother still needed her and while she remained poor!

She didn't want to be afraid of the storm, either; that was something to which only snotty-nosed little kids fell victim. But as the yacht jumped and bobbed in the roiling waters, still moving at a heady clip towards its destination, she screwed her eyes shut against the flashes of light visible through her porthole window. The thunder bore down on her, clawing across her eardrums and resonating through her bones; gritting her teeth, she shivered. And she'd thought herself fearless! Breaking Daisuke out of Magnagalia would seem like child's play in comparison to surviving this night. Assuming, of course, she survived at all.

Lots of storms had hit Judoh, of course; she had weathered them in the wagon with little difficulty, making shadow puppets against the lightning backdrop to amuse her mother and herself while poor Parsley stood soaking in the rain, placid even as the elements argued overhead. She wanted him around now, wanted to stroke his stubbly fur and breathe in his dusky but reassuring smell. Parsley, to her, smelled like home. And in the light of the bolts teasing the water outside, home could not have been farther away.

The light flashed in the porthole again, and in shrinking away from it Monica slid off the bed and landed with a thud on the rocking cabin floor. Rubbing her sore bottom and wrapping herself in her sheet, she shakily made her way to the door. She'd weather the storm in the hallway, where she couldn't see outside. Then it wouldn't all seem so real and vivid.

Oh, who was she kidding? What good was there in denying the facts? No ship could survive in weather like this. They were going to die, and because they died, Daisuke would die, and then back on Judoh her mother would die not knowing what had happened to her daughter. And Ken would die angry at her for hurting her mother. And Parsley would die because he was only an animal and animals did not live very long, but with her dead at sea no one would see to it that he got a proper grave for people to put flowers on and everything.

The world was so small seen through the lens of mortality, especially for a eleven-year-old child. As she choked back sobs, tears began to run down her pale sweaty face; hiccuping, she wiped her face and looked up into scruffy green eyes.

"Hey, hey, little lady. What's the matter?" Giovanni knelt and teased away the tears in the corners of her eyes with the corner of his sheet. "Don't like thunder?"

"That's none of your business," she tried to snap, but her angry tone lacked force. "Go back to bed. What are you doing up?"

Giovanni hefted a glass in one hand. "Vampire wanted something to drink. I'll be right back." Standing, he made his way to the master bedroom door and, opening it, sidled in. It closed with a snap behind him, and Monica threw the sheet over her head again. There. Now the world had gone away.

A horrific crash overhead jolted through her entire body, yanking a cry from lips resolved to dumbness. Had she thought herself tough, a realist well-jaded by the world and proud of it? No, when the chips were down, Monica lost every bet that mattered. She was a hysterical coward, the worst kind of lily-livered scum on earth. The lowest of the low. It was just as well she was going to die. No one back home would ever know how badly she had failed them.

"Playing hide-and-seek? I found you. You're it now. Count to twenty, little lady." Giovanni pulled the sheet off her curled-up body; she made an indignant half-growl, half-squeal and grabbed for the fabric. He, however, held it far above her head in a taunting manner. "Go on, count. I swear I'll hide."

"No thanks. I don't play baby games. Give that back." She stood on quivering legs, well aware her knees were beating a shaky rhythm as they knocked against each other. The boat heaved as she lunged for the sheet, knocking her into him with a cry; he grabbed her, dropping to one knee, and held her close until the rocking subsided.

"You're a lousy actress," he told her, handing the sheet back. "Give it up, okay?"

"I've already given up," Monica whimpered, downcast. "We're going to die."

"Hey, hey." He put a hand on her shoulder. "Have a little more faith in the old man, eh? He won't let us go under. Don't you believe in your friend?"

"J's not perfect," corrected Monica sadly. "He can't do everything. He can't fight nature and win."

"Aw, c'mon kid." The hand on her shoulder moved up to her head, ruffled her hair. "If you keep frowning, your pretty little face is gonna stay that way. Tell you what. I'll cut you a deal. You come back to my place, and if it looks like we're going down, I'll carry you to the lifeboat in one arm while I've got Vampire in the other. What do you say?"

"Clair's too heavy to carry in one arm," she sniffed derisively. He sighed.

"You'd be surprised, actually...at the very least, you wouldn't be weathering the thing alone. Look. You haven't noticed the storm while you were talking to me, right?"

As she opened her mouth to reply, the booming thunder cut her off and she reconsidered. Seeing the perplexed look cross her face, he smiled and lifted her in his arms. "I won't use only one just yet," he told her. "Save that for emergencies. Jeez, little lady, I think Vampire is actually lighter than you. What are you hiding under that dress?"

She stuck her tongue out at him but held on tight. "Clair's not allowed to find out about this," she warned him stiffly. "I don't want to be laughed at."

"Not a word," the bodyguard promised. "To be honest, I don't want to be laughed at either. And can you _imagine_ what this would do for my family image?"

Thinking about the man walking into a Company Vita meeting holding her in his arms, she giggled. "The public loves sappy stories," she informed him. "It might actually help in some circles."

"What, Mafia Consoles Desolate Child, so Let's All Let Them Embezzle The Hell Out Of Us?" He grinned. "With a picture of Vampire playing on the swings."

"He doesn't!"

"Like I said, you'd be surprised." Talking about nothing, they walked to his room together and shut the door behind them. In the hall outside, the storm still boiled and roared. But to Monica, its appetite had somehow lessened.

O0o0o0o0o0

Faintly Usagi became aware of a rushing sound through her ears; blinking and returning to the waking world, it distorted and became wild applause. Strewn around her in the arena were still-whirring but dismembered machine parts, oil slicking the ground and staining her boots.

Surveying the crowd staring down at her in awe and exaltation, she turned solemnly to the dark-skinned, muscular man wiping oil off his own hands. Gears whirring as his joints moved, he met her eyes and grinned a predator's smile. "Well done, partner. Master will be pleased."

"Partner?" She knew the world, dimly, but could not comprehend why this machine-man would use it to describe her. On the bench next to the arena the boy Daisuke Aurora sat in dumbfounded shock; she must have done an exceptionally good job to strike _him_ wordless, she decided. Master's associate, clutching a clipboard close to her bosom, came rushing over to throw Usagi's arm up in the air, addressing the crowd.

"And the final victor of the evening—Usagi the Wolf's Prize and her partner, Grendel the Steel Giant!"

So his name was Grendel. She didn't care much for him, distrusted the wildness in his eyes, artificially-created or not. His leering grin reminded her too much of those idiots who...those men from a long time ago whose faces, if she concentrated through the haze, she could almost remember. She had hated those men, then. Now she had no room within her for hate. Now she only had peace and contentment. For that, she had her master to thank.

"May I return to my master now, Baroness?" she asked the woman. Tilting her head, the dark-haired beauty considered the query, licking her lips thoughtfully. Usagi waited impassively for a reply.

Finally, she got it. "I suppose so," Baroness decided. "Well done today, Usagi. Come back tomorrow for Grendel's tune-up. We've got a lot of work to do before you two will really be ready to serve. But soon—I'll make you one of the most well-known people in the whole syndicate. Won't you like that?"

"I do not know," replied the girl truthfully. "Should I tend to Daisuke Aurora as well?"

"Who?...Oh, him. No, I haven't quite decided where to throw him yet. Go back to Leorza now, celebrate his victory over the Celestials. Be a dear and tell him I want to see him soon, won't you?"

"I shall report it immediately," Usagi promised before fading into the shadows. Trinity, still in the center of the arena, watched the patch of darkness until she was certain the girl had gone, then turned her sultry gaze to where Daisuke sat, seemingly at ease but most likely planning his escape. No, Leorza had made only one mistake in his little mistake. He'd left Nona's son in the hands of the syndicate. And she'd heard enough about Nona to make her sick. She wanted the damn fool of a woman to suffer for being such a stupid hussy, holy Celestial or not. And if the son suffered, and the mother found out...

She couldn't reveal her treatment of him until Magnagalia was well out of danger. But there were ways of making people keep silent. Nona Aurora would meet her beloved son again whether she wanted to or not, thanks to the genuine concern of a dedicated citizen committed to restoring broken homes.

But first Trinity and her pet projects would have a little more fun with the boy. And no one who played with Trinity's toys ever came out wanting to repeat the playdate.


	8. Seeking, Flight

**Episode 8: Seeking (Flight)**

The storm continued far into the night. In Giovanni's room, he and Monica waited it out, talking about nothing in particular—anything to keep the small girl's mind occupied. Kyoko tossed and turned in her cabin down the hall, kept awake less by the noise and motion of the wrath outside than by the notions churning in her own worried head. The next day would dawn on Magnagalia with them there, hopefully, to greet it not long after. Then the true difficulties would begin.

Shun slept far better than he had ever hoped to under such turbulent circumstances; but, upon waking after a particularly jolting wave to find Boma standing in a corner and refusing to quit the position no matter how he pleaded, paranoidly feigned slumber for the remaining duration of the night. Boma did not seem to need sleep. If he slept at all, it was standing up and with his eyes open.

J drove the boat safely and logically through the storm, superhuman powers of cognition leading him to predict squall patterns and chart the safest possible course. In the master bedroom, Clair slept the near-comatose sleep of children and all other amoral beings. He could not understand upon waking, however, why his dreams had revolved around donkeys and photographs.

Thus it came to pass that, as the lights and jagged bumps of the Magnagalian skyline appeared on the horizon, Daisuke Aurora's rescue team and only hope greeted the sight for the most part with yawns.

"Getting ready, old man?" Giovanni asked J in passing, draining away tiredness with cup after cup of black coffee. "Pretty soon you'll be back with your partner."

"Daisuke's telemeter signal has begun to register faintly on my receptor," J responded, beginning to slow the yacht to a more reasonable clip. "A plan of action has now become urgently necessary."

Eyes darted all around the breakfast table, afraid that other pairs, laden with responsibility, would come to rest on their own bodies. Eventually Monica sighed. "Well, Shun, this is why you're here. How do we get in?"

"First we have to find somewhere to dock where the boat will likely remain safe. We don't want our only escape means to be stolen."

"J, try to find a map and pick a location," Monica ordered through the open door to the captain's area; faintly his "Roger" floated back. "Okay. Then what?"

Adjusting his glasses, Shun then folded his pale hands on the table. "Attracting as little attention as possible, we make our way to the telemeter signal's point of origin. This task will have to be more or less improvised, as we are not certain of his exact location yet."

"Maybe," Kyoko interrupted. "Excuse me, J? When it's strong enough, could you match Daisuke's signal to the corresponding area on a map of Magnagalia, please?"

"Of course, Kyoko."

Shun cleared his throat; Kyoko muttered an apology for interrupting him and sank down in her chair. "As I was saying, once we know Daisuke's specific location we can equip ourselves accordingly. I would suggest not all going on the infiltration, as this group has grown considerably and such a large and...eclectic gathering would certainly attract undue attention."

"I'm going," Monica said instantly, before anyone could voice an opinion to the contrary. "I saw the way you looked at me when you said that!" She glared at Shun. "And that goes for the rest of you, too."

"Vampire, did I say anything?" Giovanni asked Clair, who shook his head slowly. "I didn't think so."

Kyoko, however, did have something to say. "Monica, that may not be such a good..."

"If anyone should stay behind, it's you!" The girl pointed at the young woman, interrupting her objection. "What can you do, anyway?"

"She stages quite a rescue, actually," Clair admitted, propping his right elbow on the table and his head on his right hand; the early morning sunlight glinted off a ring on his middle finger. "I say she goes. If nothing else, she's entertaining."

"Entertainment has nothing to do with an important surreptitious maneuver!" Shun objected strongly, but Clair sniffed at the notion.

"Hmph. Of course it does. It's just an elaborate game, after all. And she's an amusing piece. I vote we leave _you_ to watch the boat. You won't fit in where we're likely going."

"For most of my life I was involved in governmental--"

Clair snickered. "You actually think he's being kept by the _government_? No, if he's in any danger, it's not from the police. This is my game now."

"How so?" Shun kept his tone even.

Clair walked over to the porthole, knocked on the glass. "Look out there at it. How many lights can you count?"

Shun looked baffled. "I don't know. There are too many to--"

"Exactly." Grinning like a sated predator, Clair retook his seat. "Would a shut-down city have that many lights on?" Trumped, Shun's face fell. The young don laughed. "Just watch the way I do business, Dictator. Daisuke may not even be in danger, if the city's been saved. But if he is..."

"He is," Boma put in. "An ill omen hangs over the city."

"Don't interrupt me." He said it almost listlessly, but soon regained a bit more vitality. "If he's in danger, it's with the underground powers. So stay home and baby-sit the yacht, Mr. Subversive. This is a job for Vampire."

"And me," Monica insisted. "I didn't do _anything_ the last time we fought something big and it really pissed me off —no offense, Shun," she added upon realization of exactly what that "something big" had been. His face registered acknowledgment of neither offense nor recompense.

"Docking in seventeen minutes," reported J. "Monica, I suggest deciding on a plan as quickly as possible."

"Yeah, yeah. So what's it gonna be, then? I don't care if Shun stays or goes at this point, just as long as I get to help. And take a lot of pictures of Magnagalia to sell back in Judoh!" Her countenance brightened considerably at the recollection.

Shun sighed. "Very well. Here, however, is what I suggest..."

o0o0o00o0o0o0o0

Leorza had often wondered, though never with great interest, exactly why Trinity insisted on always wearing a fully buttoned lab coat over her clothes. It wasn't as if the woman had to disguise an unseemly figure; even underneath the loose-fitting garment her soft curves plainly showed for any man uncouth enough to seek them. Was it to further her appearance of a "scientist," in keeping with her healthy obsession with robotics? To set herself apart from the rest of the women of the world, obsessed with how they dressed and carried themselves? He had puzzled the notions over in his mind many a time but never arrived at a suitable conclusion. Neither had he decided what sort of clothes he thought she wore underneath. First, he did not care enough to hypothesize; and second, every time she opened her mouth his concentration was yanked away from the admittedly trivial matter.

He had never, however, supposed she wore _nothing_ underneath.

"Is something wrong?" She cocked her head innocently as he stared, less in fascination than outrage. "I've told you I'm the informal type before."

"There is a fine line," Leorza informed her, his gentleman's pride the only thing keeping him from retching in mortification, "between informality and wearing nothing but black lingerie in the presence of an acquaintance of the opposite sex."

"If you don't like it, don't look at it," she pointed out. "I'm not about to change my habits to please you." She puffed philosophically on her cigarette, flicked ash off her bare thigh. Only about two inches of black satin and lace, total on her entire body, maintained what little modesty remained to her. "How was your visit with that woman?"

"Nona is discontent," Leorza admitted with a sigh, refusing to look at her. "But, as the new blood dictates, she will not focus on the reasons why and instead shuttles her feelings to the back of her mind."

"I envy people who can do that," Trinity lamented, stretching perhaps a bit too languidly. "At least, until they crack and get sent off to the sanitariums. Then I laugh."

"You wouldn't have cause for such degrading scorn if no sanitariums and no reasons existed to crack," Leorza replied. She laughed at him, looping her arm around his and ignoring how he flinched away.

"Bringing up the plans again, eh? Be my guest once I'm dead and rotting. You've got, what, five cities left? Five empires?"

"Four," he corrected, unweaving himself from her embrace; she _tsk_ed.

"You haven't got here yet. Don't be overconfident, Celestial, lest the mighty fall."

"Trinity, I can't fathom why you allow yourself to be used if you detest me this much."

She covered her mouth with the back of one carefully limp hand, stifling a giggle. "Why, for the marvelous perks. Grendel could not have been such a success without your patronage. And like I said, I'm not a farthinker like you are. Just thinking about all I have to to tomorrow drags me down. Do what you like with my world—once I'm dead. And no speeding that up, either!"

"Have you no pride?" he asked her stiffly. "No sense of propriety at all?" Keep her talking about herself, he reminded herself. Sooner or later, she'd reveal too much, and then this grotesque charade would pay off at least in part.

"Not like you." Lashes fluttering slightly on down-turned lids, she shoved her hands into the open coat's pockets and leaned up against him for companionship. "I'm just a girl doing the job her daddy intended her to do. I thought you liked that kind of person."

"Provided said child did not murder said father." He held her at arm's length, gravely assessing her at last; for the first time, she blushed, embarrassed the spectacle her ensemble provided under such bone-stripping eyes. "Keep the boy, then. It's what you've been angling for, isn't it? Make whatever spectacle of him you wish, just stay out of my way with the Celestials. I'm not done with them yet and won't have you soiling my opportunity. And that includes Nona."

"You had to tack that on," she grumbled, biting her cigarette and grimacing. "I suppose you keep Usagi, then."

The frosty head inclined in what might have been a nod. "And I will continue to receive the syndicate's favor?"

She licked her glossy lips thoughtfully. "Provided I get another new blood."

"Granted. Stop by my quarters later to pick it up. I shall have to procure it from my colleagues first. They will likely not appreciate my tapping into their stock."

"I would assume as much." She watched in painful silence as he made his way to the door, then the words tore themselves from her. "Leorza...I'm not good enough for you, am I?"

He turned just enough to see her, a goddess of marble flesh disguised as a cold scientist with tears in her otherwise gem-hard eyes. "No one ever is," he informed her gently, then left her to her thoughtless machines and her equally thoughtless desires. As the door clicked shut behind him, she pulled her coat around her bare body and wept.

O0o0o00o0o0o0o0

True to his progamming as always, J successfully navigated the rescue squad's Vita yacht to a shadowy alcove on the outskirts of the city and docked. Kyoko stayed on deck despite the wind, watching the Celestial ship from a distance in awe while also keeping an eye out for police or other boats. She once again wore her black leather, figuring if she was going to descend into Magnagalia's underworld she might as well look the part. The Special Unit's gun hung in the shoulder holster, fully loaded with Blue stun ammunition; a pouch of Red Tab bullets hung from her shorts pocket...just in case. In her mind, she looked tough and ready for anything. In reality, she just looked ridiculous.

Below deck Shun checked his pockets for something, then loaded a gun of his own; he had had to borrow it from Phia since his personal firearms had been confiscated upon his arrest. Sniffing the air as he slid the bullets into place, he smiled. The weapon still smelled like Phia's perfume.

Clair didn't believe in doing things by halves. He had a gun in his back pocket, a bandolier of bullets hidden under his shirt as a belt, and two grenades in each pants pocket. Giovanni wore his usual pair of handguns beneath his coat but also crammed his own pockets with bullets and grenades. He shouldered a backpack of miscellaneous supplies, including food. His "suit" waited in the cargo bay, should their plans become more desperate.

Monica polished her camera and stuffed the purse around her neck (empty, since she'd left her money with Edmundo) with extra film. Flashes were distracting, right? She'd shoot the action while her friends handled the blinded enemies.

J was simply J, and Boma was simply Boma. They did not need to prepare.

Finally they had all assembled on deck, appraising each other to see if the sequestered weapons were indeed invisible. Clair was forced to relinquish two of his grenades, though when Giovanni wasn't looking he stuffed them in the backpack.

"Okay," Monica declared at last, rubbing her hands together. "We're all going in after all. Special Unit—move out!!"

Single file they jumped out of the boat, helping each other stand as their "sea legs" buckled and wove on the hard, dirty pavement. When the world had stopped spinning and they could walk normally, Judoh's "finest" headed out into the alien city in search of their friend.

O0o0o00o0o0o0o0

Watching Grendel fight still more opponents, Daisuke stretched on the bench. His life had become surprisingly boring of late—either he fought in the ring, having apparently become a customer favorite of sorts, or he lazed around resting up for the next bout in a cell not unlike the one from which Usagi had rescued him. He hadn't seen her around lately, and missed the company, as eerie as she had been.

True, the first night had been torture—literally. Trinity had used her pet machines to beat him in the ring until he could barely stand, and declared his fall with joy despite the howls and protests of the audience at his failure. Yet the fights had become fairer of late; he had even been pitted against other humans seeking glory in Baroness's new attraction. He wondered what had changed.

Oftentimes, as he watched Grendel in action, his mind wandered back to Judoh and J. What was the Unit doing without him? he wondered. Was Kyoko muddling through all right? He had left her a surprise present in her desk before he left—all his activity reports, fully completed and up-to-date. Had she found them? And Shun...he hoped his brother had learned to bear his punishment with grace.

Maybe he _had_ left too suddenly after all the upheaval, but that very upheaval had sparked his desire to get out and see more of the world. The idea of revolution in Judoh, that people could want the city to be other than it was, had intrigued him more than he had let on. To each their own: that had always been his motto, but he began to wonder for the first time of what "his own" consisted.

He'd seen and done a lot since then, but to his surprise his opinions about the world hadn't really changed. He still preferred Judoh, and the people in Judoh, to anywhere and anyone else he knew. What would they say if they could see him now? How badly would...certain individuals react if he told them what he now knew about certain forces running the city?

It wasn't any of his business if the late lamented hero of the underworld had been prematurely enshrined. But...ouch..._somebody_ he knew had a tough surprise coming.

"Just as well he'll never find out," Daisuke figured to himself, clapping halfheartedly as Grendel stomped the enemy machine's head in. "After all, who'll tell him? Me? Not my place. And anyway, at the rate things are going, it's not like I'm going to be returning anytime soon."

o0o0o00o0o0o0o0

"Let me see your papers."

"Beg pardon?" Kyoko blinked behind her sunglasses at the police officer. "What papers?"

"Your firearm permit." The man crossed his arms and frowned at her. "Any person carrying a gun needs a permit, especially while the Celestials are here." The shoulder holster was the one thing they'd been unable to cover, as Kyoko's outfit barely covered her body as it was.

"Officer, I can't believe you think that I would shoot a--"

"Just show them to me." He held out an insistent hand. "Go on, lady."

She lowered her eyes, blushed. "I...I...I forgot them at home."

"I'll vouch for her, Officer," Shun interceded smoothly, lowering the man's hand as he stepped between the policeman and Kyoko. Around them, a small crowd of pedestrians had begun to gather, the rest of their group among them. They had lost Boma, or so it seemed. In the city that had treated him so horribly before, the "werewolf" preferred to remain hidden. "She's just nervous, what with all the difficulties of late."

"And you are?"

Shun flashed his old badge, thumb carefully covering the word "Judoh." "General Manager Shun Aurora, City Safety Management Agency Special Unit. This young lady is one of my finest operatives."

"No cop's that stupid," Monica hissed to herself spitefully; Clair stepped on her foot to keep her quiet. She stuck out her tongue at him and he pretended not to see. He didn't like being disrespected, but Giovanni seemed to like the kid, and he trusted Giovanni's judgment. Focusing instead on the near-disaster the idiot secretary had caused, his hand danced over his pocket. If things continued in the current vein, they would need a distraction soon enough. And he was just the man to provide one.

Monica's assessment thus far seemed spot-on. "Let me see that," the policeman growled, reaching for Shun's badge. "I've never heard of no--"

"You wouldn't have," Shun replied. "We try to stay out of the police's business as much as possible. At present we are investigating a potential—" He lowered his voice. "A potential threat to the Celestials. You can understand, then, why my operative became so distressed at your inquiry. Now if you'll let us move along..."

"Shun Aurora." The man scratched his chin. "That name _does_ sound familiar..."

Monica banged her head with her hand. "Idiot!" Would it have killed them to make fake badges if this was his intended cover? There was no way the ringleader of another city's attempted coup, isolationist policies in place or not, would be able to use his real name and get away with it.

"Monica, Daisuke's telemeter signal is growing fainter. I believe he is now underground. If he travels any further, I may lose him," J reported, staring straight ahead. "We cannot waste any more time."

"Damn!" Biting her lip, she scowled at Kyoko and Shun. Daisuke would never forgive her if she let his brother get in trouble again, so she couldn't leave the aggravating man behind. But she couldn't do anything that would have the cops actively hunting their group, either. Being the leader wasn't any fun when things went wrong.

"General Manager Aurora!"

Huh? She looked up to see Giovanni drag Clair into the open, hands pinned behind his back. What were they _doing? _She caught sight of a small grey object hidden in Clair's grasp and groaned. "J...let's get out of here. They'll catch up."

"Roger, Monica." The big man picked up the little girl and dashed away.

Meanwhile the poor Magnagalian policeman watched in befuddlement as a tall dark-haired man wrestled a younger one to the ground. "General Manager! I caught him! The terrorist!"

"Excellent job, Gio—Look out! He's loose!" Shun barked, and Clair jumped up, tearing the pin free from the secret in his hand. "Fireworks!" the young man yelled, flinging the grenade at a dilapidated building nearby; the crowd ran for cover while the cop made a grab for the young man.

Then the policeman dropped, blue sparks racing over his unconscious form. "I'm sorry," Kyoko told him, bowing as she holstered her gun, then joined her companions in racing for cover as the grenade exploded. So much for stealth.

O0o0o00o0o0o0o0

Pulling the white shawl around her face, hiding the too-perfect features, the woman hurried across the strand of sand, leaving messy footprints she wished she had time and a method to brush away. She had tried for hours to dispel all the questions intruding on her placid view of the universe and could bear it no longer. Not even the new blood had helped, though she had bathed for hours and so attracted her fellows' sympathy. None of them could understand. They had not lived in the cities, felt the same conflicts. But Leorza...Leorza had. And Leorza knew something he wasn't telling.

"You win," Nona panted to the loathfully dignified portrait in her mind. "I'll do anything you want. Just...just tell me. What's really going on?"


	9. Chaos, Glimpse

**Episode 9: Chaos (Glimpse)**

Though he heard the explosion and correctly surmised its origin, he did not turn back. J would lead them in the right general direction, but it was up to him, as a native Magnagalian, to perform the more difficult task of pinpointing their quarry's exact location in the first place. At least, he perceived his duty as such in his mind. He had not bothered to inform anyone else of this responsibility.

Eyes darting warily about him, Boma kept to the shadows as he headed for the Barony, a prominent hotel and worst-kept-secret hideout for the darkest figures of Magnagalian society. Even now, after all that he had run from and escaped, slipping unseen through the revolving doors sent the briefest stab of fear and hatred through his mind. These were the people who had used Brad. These were the people who had tricked him into killing his friend.

The beast master...had he worked for these people as well? Was that how the Barony and its ilk stayed in business—the scientists of "justice" played both sides? A low growl of rage escaped his lips, but as soon as he became aware of it he stopped. He had made his piece with all that; he was not a thinker but a doer, a feeler, but a feeler of the most impassive sort. He followed instincts, not emotions. Those instincts, he trusted, would lead him to Daisuke.

Assuming he wasn't caught and dragged back to "justice" first; the word could not even stand alone in his mind anymore, though he had spent most of his life killing for the sake of its unlawful version. No, that could not even be an option, he would not let it be so. Boma struck "capture" from his list of possibilities and, in that moment, became invincible. For if he did not wish for something to occur in his world, if he had power over it, it did not happen. That was how he had been trained, how he had trained himself.

A group of raucous drunks swaggered into the lobby; the desk clerk ignored them, especially after one plunked down a hefty tip. Boma padded in the direction whence the drunks had come—that kind of handout reeked of freshly made money, and where there was quick prolific cash to be had, he would find the syndicate.

He had to maintain the belief that finding the syndicate would also mean finding Daisuke. Otherwise he'd just handed himself over to the enemy for no good reason.

O0o0o00o0o

"That is _disgusting_," Monica said blanketly as J, gently but firmly, shook off the heavily made-up woman clinging to his arm. Behind him, Shun and Giovanni dealt with similar difficulties, except Giovanni brushed his would-be alluring leech off while still holding his gun. "Even for whores."

"Hey, when business is bad..." Giovanni muttered to himself as the brothel receded behind them; Shun looked like he wanted to run to the nearest laundromat and stuff his coat in a machine to rid it of the woman's touch.

Kyoko's earlier faint facial shade of green blurred to an indignant red."But accosting pedestrians on the street! Have they no sense of propriety??"

"People like that are the worst," spat Clair, his former exhilarating high after the narrow escape now completely sunken in a mire of disdain for the entirety of humanity. "They think degrading themselves is actually _appealing_. If they can't respect themselves enough to turn somewhere else, they deserve everything they get."

"Extremely traumatizing early life experiences culminate in a feeling of hopelessness," J explained to no one in particular, eyes riveted firmly ahead as the group tramped down the dingy street. Kabuki Road had seemed metropolitan in comparison to what passed for a pleasure district in Magnagalia. "They are not wholly responsible for their actions, but are instead byproducts of a corrupt and downtrodden society."

"I hate that kind of thinking too," Clair groused, kicking at a discarded beer can. Kyoko, for her part, shrugged in amusement. J standing up for prostitutes...Daisuke would have been rolling on the ground laughing.

Thinking of him made her breath catch in her throat; she adjusted the handgun in her holster. "So, J, can you tell which building?"

"It is difficult to determine. As I said, the signal has gone underground."

"Where's Boma?" Monica asked suddenly; Kyoko started as she realized the man had, indeed, disappeared.

Clair shrugged. "He'll turn up again. That's his way, isn't it?"

Nodding, Kyoko couldn't keep a worried frown from sneaking loose. "I just hope...well, he's Boma, right? So he'll be okay."

"Boma's body has been genetically enhanced to near-invincibility," J replied stalwartly. "The chances of his losing a battle are fractional."

"I don't like this," Shun grumbled. "He could have abandoned us, for all we know."

The others turned to him in astonishment. "Sh-Shun..." Kyoko gasped. "Boma is...well, he's honorable. He wouldn't do a thing like that."

Shun laughed bitterly. "I see. A cold-blooded killer is 'honorable.'" The unspoken contrast with a certain other escapee from the justice system hung in the air, but no one dared bring it up. Kyoko wondered what had really caused the blond man's paranoia. Was it really just blatant distrust of a man he considered unworthy of such confidences?

But suspecting Daisuke's older brother wouldn't help her find the young man himself any faster. And at that moment, lost in the seedier districts of a foreign city, her mind and will had to be focused on him and him alone.

O0o0o00o0o

The cell door clicked shut; the door to the room slammed to a close; he lay down on the bed; a shadow moved in the corner, and he fell off in surprise.

"...Boma!" Wincing, Daisuke stood, rubbing his sore back. "Don't _do_ that!"

"You are not surprised?" the dark-haired man asked; Daisuke tilted his head contemplatively.

"In retrospect...I wish I could say no, but I can't. You shouldn't be here! What if they find you? They'll catch you again and--"

"They cannot hurt me," Boma assured him, his tone flat. "Usagi is gone."

Opening his mouth to reply, Daisuke thought better of it and chewed his lip in thought. He had to get the older man out of the cell before said "gone" young lady chose to make a surprise appearance; just because he hadn't seen her all day didn't mean she wouldn't suddenly barge in on him and traumatize his friend. In addition, he didn't want Boma to have to fight the girl. He wasn't sure the man could win.

"All the same, better safe than sorry and all that."

"Coming from you, that means nothing."

"Ouch. Thanks." He gestured to the cage, eager to change the subject. "So, about this little arrangement...I prefer my apartment in Judoh. Think you could maybe help me move?"

"Not alone. Security is too high. I cannot, alone, take you unseen far enough."

"Oh." Daisuke's face fell, but he was more confused than disappointed. "And the point of this little visit then was...?"

"I know where you are now. I will return with the others." Stepping back into the corner, Boma vanished. Daisuke swore under his breath.

"What others? Boma? Boma? Who came? Hey, are you even still listening to me?"

o0o0o00o0o

Their paths crossed entirely by accident; it was the sort of encounter that could happen any day, to any two perfect strangers. The old man had left the hotel, hands stuffed in his pockets and, with his head bowed, furiously contemplated his next move in the grand system that he in his younger, more idealistic and yet more covert days had devised. Feeling a need to immerse himself in the life he knew and hated even as he pitied it, the reasons behind his planning, he turned his polished footsteps to the back roads and sleazy alleys, seeking to wash his doubts away with the tide of other people's sin. The young man walked those very same streets seeking not vindication, not escape, but confrontation: he had several goals to achieve and needed no prodding whatsoever to accomplish any of them.

The old man walked alone, and preferred it that way. Other people could never connect to him, not after hearing the strange things he dreamed of and the means by which he had chosen to enact those dreams. What few stragglers who did come, magnetized by his charisma the way a sponge draws water, were below him entirely. Oh, how he loved them and yet hated them! He was not a part of that world, but one day they would all be a part of his. And until the two worlds were one, neither could be happy.

The young man walked with confederates, and was content. As long as other people distracted him and kept him safe, nothing could happen to him. He would have liked for the others to come like water to his sponge, but had learned life did not, for him at least, work that way. So he put up with as much idiocy as he could for the sake of the greater benefits being a part of the group provided. His goals, at least for the long term, had not and likely would never solidify in his mind, but his immediate plans were all too concrete and pressing. He had too many agendas to juggle, but was reluctant to let a single one fall.

They could just as easily have passed each other by without even noticing the other's presence, but the old man sensed something was wrong and scanned the crowd for the threat. His people were renowned for their sensitivity, and he had learned to trust it. Some called him overly cautious, but his wariness and instincts had never failed him yet.

The young man had no such knowledge of what precisely drew his half-bored eyes to skim across the crowd; a faint notion, perhaps, of burning eyes upon his neck, watching every movement he made with scorn. He had not felt the suffocating weight of others' expectations in the waking world for nearly a year now, and was enraged that some upstart nobody in the masses packed along the dingy roads would dare send his senses prickling.

Their eyes met, connected, and widened. Both kept walking, though the young man stumbled slightly. In an instant, the connection was severed as the old man stepped into a doorway, keeping his eyes on the young man. It seemed to the latter that the former's gaze had rested with disapproval especially on his mouth; no, on something _on_ his mouth...

The same mouth gasped in dumb disbelief, a wave of fear and hope and utter, total helplessness knocking the wind out of his lungs even as the crowd thinned and the sun came out from behind the clouds. No one heard him; indeed, to him they had all disappeared. There were only him and the phantom face in the entire world—yet that face had not been ethereal, but concrete. Just as he remembered it, only terribly, horribly out of place.

So he tried to vocalize it, tried to admit what he had seen, to call out and make the vision real; but terror of the consequences and repercussions seized his gut and choked the voice out of him. He ended up expelling the word as a breath of air, a puff on the wind that nonetheless would not dissipate. For the word had hung over his head his entire life.

"Papa..."


	10. Switch, Sleep

**Episode 10: Switch (Sleep)**

Though he prided himself on his unflappability, Leorza's heart hammered in his chest to the point where he felt his heartbeat all over his entire body. Shaking, he sat down in the nearest chair to the door of the restaurant he had ducked into; a waitress came over expectantly, but he waved her away with a restless hand. Closing his eyes, he reached within his coat for the object he knew hung within; clutching the amulet and breathing deeply, he felt the peace of the new blood wash over him and empty his mind of worries.

Outside, the sun shone warmly on eager trees, and he could feel them stretching upwards, away towards the light they could never fully obtain but which provided nourishment all the same. In that way, he regarded himself very much a tree. On the outside stoic and composed, slow and steady in his mighty growth, but within lunging constantly for a light overhead he could not quite reach. Yet if he grew long enough...high enough...then someday...

But now one of his branches had been chopped off and supplanted, a seedling had sprouted where it should not have and threatened that growth. This could not be. There was no reason for it to be so, he argued with himself. What possible reason could his son, of all people, have for wandering through the dingy mire of the Magnagalian back streets? Preposterous. He was Vampire now! His place was in Judoh, ruling it from the shadows as he had been instructed for all his nineteen...no, twenty, the boy was twenty now, years. He had the fullest confidence that Mauro would have looked after his son and continued to provide advice and guidance for feet that sometimes wished to divert themselves from his father's carefully-laid path for them.

No, the boy had become Vampire: he had heard as much on the few radios he'd been able to find that broadcasted international news. Such a pronouncement should not have made the air, unfortunately; it only merited mention because his son had done an absolutely horrible job within the position. Leorza didn't know the details, but he'd heard that in the span of a mere year Clair Leonelli had managed to spark one minor gang war against the Wei family, one major gang war against Vita itself, and a manhunt that nearly resulted in the unity of the board dissolving. He'd eventually won his way back into the board's good graces, the reports said, only because the man the other families had chosen to replace him was a viciously ambitious but brainless twit.

The very idea of another bearing the title of Vampire—a title Leorza had created for himself, with his own goals in mind—sent spasms of revulsion up his throat. His own kin carrying on the legacy sat well with him, as indeed his monopoly had been created and his son born for that express purpose, but a total stranger? A _human? _What was more, an utter idiot, if the reports were to be trusted. What had Mauro been doing? There had been a fine specimen of mankind, indeed—constantly overstressed, to be sure, but cautious. Careful. Deferring. Respectful. Subservient. Leorza liked his followers meek; explaining his logic to inquiring and challenging minds got tedious after a while, though he did have to admit to himself that he enjoyed the occasional mental spar with Magnagalia's Baroness.

But Trinity and her multitude of infuriating quirks no longer occupied the "primary threat" portion of his mind, the area on which he found himself focusing constantly. Instead, her smirking face had been replaced by the cowed but unbroken expression of a young man at a father's deathbed, pleading for acceptance even as he flaunted the freedoms given by the older man's "affliction." Clair had hated him then and continued to do so; why else would he have performed so poorly as Vampire? Leorza had failed his son and thus himself. He had not made the boy want the position enough, had not sufficiently pressed into his head his high expectations.

No, no, no! This was all fruitless. He needed empirical data, needed proof to determine if his grand gamble had indeed fallen through. The boy was a threat, that could not be doubted: "Lorenzo Leonelli" had been dead and buried for a year, so reports of his reappearance were certain to spark, if not belief, at the very least curiosity. Best to get him back under control as soon as possible, then. He could gain information from the boy as well.

Taking his hand off the amulet hanging from his inner coat pocket, Leorza drew out his cell phone and punched in a number. The response, as always, was near-immediate.

"Master?"

"Usagi. Where are you?"

"I am in the Barony. I did not think returning to my cell would be of use after the beast masters' discovery of my escape route."

"Good girl. Now listen carefully. I have a job for you. Here is a description of your quarry..."

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

It had finally happened, Giovanni sighed wearily to himself. Vampire had finally cracked. Though what had brought it on he really couldn't fathom, there could be no other explanation. Clair wasn't stupid enough to see a man in the crowd in passing and mistake him for Giovanni's old boss; and the gentleman in question had laid in repose within his solemn coffin marked only "Vampire" for over a year. No, for Clair to start hallucinating his dead father, something must have finally snapped in that little black-and-blue head.

"Damn it, Giovanni, you don't _believe_ me?"

"Sure I believe you, Vampire," the bodyguard replied, keeping his eyes up as the group navigated the narrow unsavory streets. "Problem is, I also believe my own memory of seeing a coffin lowered into the ground."

"But I just--"

"Clair." He left off all honorifics on purpose; the young man blinked in startled surprise. "I was with you when you found him, remember? We checked for a pulse together, and I...helped you cope." The boy had been violently sick all over himself, and Ian and Mitchal had conveniently remembered other, pressing jobs to be done in the wake of the don's death, so Giovanni had been left with the task of cleaning up the Vampire-apparent. To the leaders went the glory, eh? Not in his world. "There is no way you could have seen him."

He had expected anger, had prepared for it mentally and hoped dearly the young man wouldn't cause a scene. But instead of inflaming his master's indignation, Giovanni's words deflated Clair, made his thin frame seem even more fragile as the young don dropped his head slightly. "You think I'm lying, Giovanni?" he asked dully, almost slurring his words. "You're able to believe I would lie to you..."

"Vampire..." Giovanni began, but a voice from the shadows interrupted him.

"I have found him," Boma informed the group in his low, slightly husky voice. "Daisuke."

Kyoko's head whipped around at the words; Monica smacked her hand. "Don't be so obvious!" she whispered through teeth clenched in frustration. Giovanni himself inclined his head slightly to try and catch a glimpse of the wolfman keeping carefully out of sight. "Lead the way."

"The easiest path is through a hotel called the Barony," Boma reported; J produced a faint whirring sound as he searched for the map data.

"It is owned by a prominent family and consists of thirty-two floors of accommodations ranging from conventional to elite," reported the android, adjusting his black hat atop his head. "Estimated time on foot from our current position: twenty minutes. If Daisuke is there, my telemeter must be receiving interference from an outside source, as it is off by nearly two blocks."

"You mean even you can't tell where Daisuke is??" Monica nearly shrieked, but it was Kyoko's turn to hush the other girl and she obeyed the older woman. "At least _Boma_ was useful."

Shun gave a short grunt of amused irritation. Clair, still sulking, kept glancing over his shoulder at the receding storefront where his father had reportedly vanished. Giovanni's heart went out to his employer, but what could he do? Lorenzo Leonelli had died nearly two years ago, and like Kyoko had earlier pointed out on the yacht, the world kept rolling. Nothing Clair wished or dreamed could bring his father back. To attempt such flights of fancy would cause him to fall off that ever-turning sphere. He and Giovanni had teetered precariously before, and the older man was determined not to let the younger one fall. Yet...

"Boma, could you check something for Vampire and me?" he asked the air; Clair's head jerked up in sudden, pathetic hope. The wolf-man, holographic human mask carefully in place, joined them in their walk. He listened as Giovanni explained his directions—go back there and look for a man, well-dressed, with large dark eyes, white hair, and a thin mustache. "He'd carry himself like he owned the world," Giovanni described, never one for especially poetic language save in times of extreme stress, but nonetheless trying hard to encapsulate the aura that had surrounded the late Vampire even in death. Boma nodded; then his pale face blanched slightly more, his head snapped up like a wary animal's and his eyes darted along the horizon of heads mulling around the street.

"Something is coming," he predicted grimly, and Clair behind him gave a strangled yell. The sound faded as the glassy young woman holding onto his arm withdrew the syringe from his neck and grabbed him as he collapsed.

It seemed to Giovanni that time slowed and sped up at once, watching the young man fall into the girl's hold. In numbness he drew both handguns, crossing his arms across his chest as he went for his holsters. "Vampire!" he yelled, letting off two shots before breaking off in fear of hitting the young master himself. For her part, the girl defected both bullets calmly with a knife she drew from the shuddering air around her one free hand and, stepping backwards, vanished completely, taking Clair with her. And time, tired of running in an unorthodox manner, stopped.

For the others...he saw it was over before most of the rescue team knew it had even begun. Boma immediately disappeared as well, but returned not five minutes later unsuccessful. "They are gone," he admitted grimly; Giovanni dropped his weapons as everyone in the street turned to look at him—some in fear, some in anticipation of a fight.

"What are you all looking at???" he screamed at the other pedestrians. "Go home or back to work or whatever!! There's nothing to look at here..." Stooping to pick up his guns, he shouldered them both with unsteady fingers. "There's nothing..." he repeated, closing his eyes and swallowing hard. "Not a damn thing one of you could do." His eyes snapped across the rest of his group. "Any one of you. Or me. Did you see that? We all just stood there and..." His knees buckled; he had to lean on a storefront to remain standing, hands fisted but the rest of his body sucked dry of power. "...oh God..." he mumbled brokenly, angrily, disbelievingly. "Oh dear God..."

It was the first time anyone had ever heard him mention religion, even in vain. His companions watched him in awkward, near-fidgety silence; his shoulders heaved, and one by one they realized he was muffling tears.

Bit by bit the wall of blunt disbelief crumbled in his mind and he let reality seep in. It was over. Like a brick in the face, his master—his friend, he dared think of the don as a friend—had been snatched from him. And he hadn't been able to do a stupid, shitty thing.

"Damn it," he growled, banging the storefront with his left fist while biting his right until it bled. "God damn it..."

Who and why, and to what end? He didn't know, had no leads. For a moment the young man's "crazy" assertion hovered in his mind; he stared at it dumbly. Could it be...? But why?

Damn the questions! Accepting what had happened was bad enough without also having to accept a million different possibilities. Choking, he swallowed salt and gagged, coughed. Inside the store people turned to stare at the man slowly breaking down against their window. He let them stare, beyond caring enough to hate them or be embarrassed. _They'd_ been useless too...

Turning away, he rubbed his arm across his face and slid his sunglasses back on. They all stared at him, afraid to speak.

Finally J broke the silence. "Your tears indicate great emotional stress, most likely of guilt. A man is never passive, but I allowed this to happen," he told Giovanni. "The blame is thus also mine."

"A man knows when to keep his trap shut, old man," Giovanni snapped; then, shuddering, shook his head. "No, no, it's not you. I'm fine, I just need...Look, old man. Change of plans. You all go on without me."

"We won't," Monica insisted. "What if you get caught? You'll give the rest of us away."

He actually smiled. "Glad to see you're grateful, miss. See if I visit _you_ next storm. No, I have to...just sit awhile..." As much as he thought he hurt, he knew he was still mostly numb. It was too sudden. It couldn't have happened. Any minute Clair would jump out from somewhere, spitefully pleased like a child at his little hiding game. When the numbness broke...like it always broke...Well, one thing was for sure. He wasn't in any condition to go save Daisuke.

"What do we do, though?" Kyoko sounded frightened, kept close to Shun. "We can't just go on with everything like...well, we just can't!"

"We split up," Shun prescribed; Giovanni cracked a despairing grin.

"But we don't know who took him or..."

_Whack._

She had to stand on her tiptoes to do it, but Monica still managed to slap Giovanni squarely across his face. "You IDIOT!" she scolded him as he stared, jaw slightly loose, at the small girl. "Is he your friend or isn't he?"

"...Yes..." It wasn't really an answer to her question, but she understood.

"Then you _have_ to look! If he's your friend, no matter what, you have to get him back!" She glared at him, moral superiority bristling down every inch of her stiff coppery braids, until he looked down and noticed his bleeding knuckles.

Staring at them dumbly, he finally replied, "Well...then...what are we all standing around for?" Standing tall, he pulled out his pistols and crammed replacement bullets in them for the two shots he'd set off at Clair's captor. "Let's show them what happens when they mess with Judoh's greatest, eh?"

"Judoh's greatest _losers_," Monica retorted, but like him she was smiling. "Okay, people. Here's the plan. Boma, you've proven you're good at finding random stuff..."

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Phia told herself every day that Shun wasn't coming back, but it didn't keep her from hoping. Word of his disappearance had reached the media despite Edmundo's efforts to the contrary; by force of either a small miracle or considerable bribing, Vampire's corresponding vanishing act had not yet leaked to the world at large.

It hadn't taken her too long after Mauro's initial call to piece the puzzle together; the pieces had been cemented by Edmundo's assertion that a yacht flying the Vita flag had opened fire on two scavenging vessels well out of the twenty-mile permission radius. After the initial misunderstanding at the apartment door between the detective within and the mob advisor without, the assassin had successfully, as always, negotiated the gap between the two coexisting worlds of Judoh, and now Mauro and Vita were part of the team searching for Shun Aurora—all in secret, of course; they could not afford to admit that their interest lay not with the escaped convict but in locating their "sick" ringleader.

What a pathetic alibi, Phia mused to herself. The kind of thing a child would come up with when he wanted to stay home from school, not the sort of thing a mafia don used to cover his flight.

Of course, then there were the children who felt no such excuses were required for their absences. Shun Aurora was one such child.

Searching through his private possessions was, she thought, far easier than it should have been; perhaps old "secretarial" habits died hard. Unfortunately, the investigation had thus far proved fruitless. Never one to trust his ideas to paper, Shun kept all his most important plans and notions safely locked away in his head. He left no trail to follow, no "clues" to present to the public to throw them off-track until he could return with Daisuke (if he returned...she had to remember the if). And he also left her with no ideas as to how to cover for his absence, either. The truth was certainly noble enough, but it was still illegal. Another trial, another sentence, another long stretch of time serving and hating. Though glad the city had granted Shun "amnesty" at least in word, Phia wondered if their treatment of him had hurt more than it had helped.

Here was something, though: her fingers closed on a folded slip of paper carefully wedged between the bottom and back of Shun's dresser drawer. Drawing it out gingerly, trying not to dwell on the presence of the man that floated around his drawers and possessions, she unfolded the small letter. Her eyebrows shot up.

_Daisuke--_

_It had to end like this, didn't it? Somehow I hoped and feared as much. I don't blame you for your decision, so I don't want you to feel guilty. I can only hope you come to see the truth about this city someday, and realize Bro was right all along._

_I still would rather die by your hand than any other's. Better fratricide than slow torture at the hands of Vita and the other monsters. We could have cleaned them all out, you and I. But that's neither here nor there anymore. _

_Destroy the controls for J that I tried to use on you; I don't want anyone imitating my voice and using him to further the sludge of anarchy polluting this city. _

_By the time you find this note on my body, it'll be too late, but...I'm proud of you._

_Shun_

He had put this into his vest pocket the night Daisuke had come for him at Central Tower? She remembered very little of the rebellion, only the faint beeping of her medical apparatus and the distant sounds of explosions. Fireworks over the city. Celebrating the downfall of a tyrant. The ruin of a proud soul...a confused and erring soul, but a proud one all the same...

She sat back on the bed, frowning, and stared at the note again. One line, seemingly inconsequential and even cowardly, stood out to her against the rest: _...torture at the hands of Vita..._

Breath quickening, she dialed Mauro's number. He answered on the second ring.

"Beetle?"

"Are you alone?" Best play it safe.

"Yes. What's happened? Has someone seen them?"

"Not that I know of," she informed him regretfully, sorry to let the old man down. "But I have a cover for both of them. It'll maybe hurt Vampire's image, but...I think he'll find it fun."

"What cover?"

"Shun actually came up with this himself," she told him, smiling, and outlined her plan. Not waiting to hear his reaction, she hung up, dialed Edmundo, and performed an identical routine. Then she turned her phone off—give them time to digest before they voiced objections—and flopped down on the bed.

Shun's pillow still smelled like his shampoo; she buried her head in it and inhaled deeply. She had to believe he would return, had to prepare for it. She would make him proud of her. They would have a second chance at life, she swore, no matter what the city wanted to do to him. She'd break every rule and regulation ever recorded in Judoh to give Shun a chance for his soul to heal. And if he never recovered...at least she would have tried.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

The needle stabbed Clair's neck maliciously; he jerked as the pain flooded his system, then slowly floated away. He found he could no longer stand, as he had no feet with which to support his legs...he had no legs, either, no arms...no torso...

_The old man lay stiff and regal in bed as if sleeping, but would not wake, was cold and puffy to the touch. He held the man's hand and screamed for him to wake up anyway, though the fingers were nothing but slabs of hard flesh anymore; getting no reaction, he felt his insides revolt against the harsh truth and--_

The vision ended as abruptly as the pain had begun. He watched, cushioned by soft warmth, as "Clair Leonelli" drifted off to some far corner of the cosmos, carrying with him all those problems and trivialities. Around what was left, the universe reached down and cupped gently, cradling him even as he soaked it all in to replace his lost body. The sun, he could feel the sun...and the rushing of the water in pipes below...and it was such a soothing sound; his eyelids fluttered softly shut, but he had no eyes to close anyway...birds in the sky, he had never taken time to notice the birds before...

And they were all so happy; even the water seemed to laugh joyfully as it rushed along its course. Forgetting he had no throat, he tried to laugh too; something bubbled up and over and out, but he knew not what...but it sounded happy...everybody and everything was just very...very...happy...and blurry, the world was blurry, too...

His head lolled to one side, and Usagi adjusted her burden accordingly. "He took the new blood well," she reported into her earbud. "I shall take him back to you right away."

"You gave him the diluted vial, correct?" Her Master's voice crackled in her ear; for a brief moment she had a feeling not unlike annoyance, but quickly she smoothed it over. It had never been. She was happy.

"It should still sedate and pacify him for a sufficient amount of time for me to transport him," Usagi replied.

"That is not the point! I do not want his mind fully wiped, Usagi. Ask him something."

"Master?"

"Ask him...ask him his advisor's name." The voice sounded almost worried. But that could not be. Master did not worry, for nothing Master did ever went wrong.

"What was your advisor called?" she asked the young man, adjusting him again as she slipped like a shadow towards her destination. Dumbly his lips moved, and she had to cock her head to hear his reply.

"Mauro...he helped me a lot...but I never listened to him...maybe I should have..."

"That's good," her Master said approvingly; she allowed herself a brief glow of satisfaction before subsiding back down to her usual level of bland contentment. "Bring him to my apartment, Usagi. Trinity's not finding out about this one."

"Yes, Master."

A voice, there was a voice above him...no, two voices, a loud one and a very, very soft one, but that one he knew. He had not heard it in a long time.

"Hey, Papa," he mumbled, smiling. "I thought you left me..." Something was wrong about his words, he remembered; the man disliked it when he was informal—what was 'informal'? What was 'dislike'?

Leorza sat back in his armchair and poured himself a glass of red wine, setting the bottle back onto the table next to a decanter of a translucent blue-green liquid. For emergencies only, he reminded himself. He needed the boy alert and cunning in Judoh--just not cunning enough to remember his encounter with a ghost. No, he must have found the machine left in his father's bed. A corpse, then.

"To the corpse of Lorenzo Leonelli," he toasted to his as-yet-unpresent son. "May Vampire rise from his coffin one day." Tipping the glass back precisely, he sipped.

On his lips as he removed the glass, his wine looked like blood.


	11. Division, Son

**Episode 11: Division (Son)**

Daisuke's blindfold had gotten stuffy, hot air pressing up against his eyes and keeping them from even opening slightly. Grendel's strong arms pinning his own behind his back prevented him from reaching up and adjusting the uncomfortable strip of fabric, and as the dark-skinned machine led him out of the limousine he stumbled on the step down. Ahead of him he could hear Trinity's lab coat swishing against her legs as she walked, could smell the stale ashes of her perpetual cigarette. Beyond the smoke he smelled something else—salt? The ocean. She'd taken him to a dock; listening, he detected the crashing of waves on piers. Oh, this was not good. He couldn't afford to get stranded at sea or whatever she was planning on doing to him.

Grendel stopped moving before Daisuke did, understandably, and so the young man tripped yet again. Ahead of him, Trinity had also stopped; he could no longer hear her heels click against the ground.

"Give him here, Grendel," the woman ordered, and Daisuke felt himself be passed over. Long nails bit into his arms as she held him tight; he heard the clicking of a cocked handgun and felt the barrel press into his temple. "That's so you don't move, honey," she assured him. "I don't want to have to shoot you."

"That's a relief," Daisuke replied, and the barrel pressed harder.

"Don't try me, though," she warned, then addressed her machine again. "Go ahead, Grendel. You know what to do."

He laughed the low grunts of a thug, and thundered off. In the distance Daisuke could hear a crash; someone screamed, and a shot was fired.

"The Celestials!" someone yelled. "Protect the Celestials!"

"Hey!" came another voice, and as more crashes were heard in Grendel's direction footsteps came dashing over. The gun was removed from his temple; he heard a shot, wincing, and the footsteps stopped. Trinity sniffed, and the gun returned to its original position.

"Let's go," she told him, and they started walking again. "Going up."

He felt himself be led up a ramp and onto a bobbing surface—a boat? Now the sounds of fighting were closer; he could hear Grendel laughing, and someone moaned in pain.

"They say they're so strong, but they don't even fight back," the android scoffed as the voice on the ground moaned again. A frightened murmur swept across the deck—how many people were here, anyway?

"What do you want?" asked a lone voice with strength left to speak, clarion amid the uneasy rumblings. Trinity shoved Daisuke forward, digging the gun even harder against his skin; he flinched.

"Is his mother here?" she demanded. "I want to make a bargain."

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

The telemeter signal had moved, and no one knew what to make of its new location. Either J's system was no longer to be trusted at all, or...

"But this is great!" Monica protested as Kyoko fretted to herself. "Pictures of Celestials will be worth a lot! And I bet they won't fight back too hard either!"

"I just don't understand why, if he was imprisoned as Boma said, the people who captured him would take him to the Celestial ship," Kyoko pointed out. "And it's not going to be easy getting on that, either. Security is bound to be high."

"Dai got on," the small girl argued obtusely. "So it can be done."

Sighing, Kyoko shook her hair out and replaced her sunglasses. She wished Boma had decided to come with her group rather than help Giovanni look for Clair; he, at least, would have had no trouble breaking on. The werewolf couldn't really be blamed, she supposed, for not wishing to run the risk of discovery by the syndicate if he could help it, and she figured his failure to catch Clair's kidnapper had likely rankled his pride. He had also said something strange as he left with the bodyguard—said he felt like he'd known the girl from somewhere...

"Maybe we should wait until he leaves the ship," she proposed, and turned to Shun to see if the plan met with his approval.

But Shun was gone.

O0o0o0o0o0o0

Coward.

The word flew wasp-like after him as he pushed his way through the crowd; but he would not let it sting him, elbowing people out of the way in an attempt to catch up to the two companions hunting the second captive. The girls had J to defend them and to free Daisuke; one man with a handgun was hardly likely to turn the tide of war. But then...why had he even come, if not to save his brother? How serious was he, then, about slipping away afterwards, of trying to start anew?

Coward, the wasp buzzed. You already have. What are you doing right now? You're running away. They don't need you there either, and you don't even like Vampire. Forget them, you coward. You don't want to save them anyway. Go back to your brother and prove that Daisuke isn't the only Aurora who can save others instead of hurting them...

Yet how could he look his little brother in face now, knowing the deed had already been done, that he'd already turned away? And how could he, if the signal was correct...

His throat tightened, clenched in anger. No. If he went on that ship, if he saw _them_, there was no telling what he might do. It fit, somehow, in the warped world of his mind that they should keep him from his brother at last. Their carelessness in the face of those who cared...Daisuke had inherited that, hadn't he? And it infuriated him. To see his brother falling into the lackadaisical patterns of the scattered, selfish woman who had forsaken her greatest responsibility and instead pursued her own happiness...such apostasy from duty was unforgivable, and he did not wish to see it repeated in his only sibling.

But, damn it, wasn't he running from his responsibility now?

Stopping to gather his thoughts, Shun sat down on a bench along the street and tried to collect himself. He had three visible options, he decided: go after Daisuke, go after Clair, or run away entirely. The first option would prove his love and duty to his younger brother but perhaps throw him in the midst of the creatures he most detested; the second provided a way to perhaps save a bit of face and still see his brother again, but did not guarantee a happy reunion or even a reunion at all, should he fail in his primary objective (which seemed likely); the third denied all ties to the world tethering him in place and forcing him where he did not wish to go, including some ties he did not particularly want to break. Plus the guilt would be him forever, but in the face of his other options it was so tempting, so easy...

Was this how _she_ had felt? he wondered suddenly. Torn between family and the man she loved, she broke off her chains before they broke her instead? For a moment he felt a brief, potent stab of sympathy; then his mind and soul hardened, and he stood. He would never take the path _she_ had chosen. He would not fall into that pit. But he was not ready to face her kind again either; understanding her was not enough, it made his disgust even more complete. That only left option two, then. The middle ground, in technicalities the most difficult. But, absorbed in solving the puzzle, maybe he would be able to forget the boy on the boat whose brother had abandoned him.

For now, he reminded himself. We're all going back to Judoh together. I'll see him then, and we'll talk it all out. He'll forgive me; he always has.

Will I, though?

_Celestials_, he reminded himself, and his resolve cemented. He trusted J to look after his brother, as always; the only way the machine could defect in that duty was safely tucked away where no enemy could ever reach it. Let partners take care of partners. It would be enough for Daisuke that his brother had even come.

"Shun."

He turned and found Boma sitting next to him on the bench. "Boma," he replied simply.

"I thought it was you. Where are the others?"

"I changed my mind," Shun said through a still-tight throat. "Daisuke is now with the Celestials. How can I help look for Clair?"

o0o0o0o0o0o0

Usagi started to place the young man on the bed, but at a gesture from Leorza she deposited the limp body in an armchair facing where her Master himself sat. At another flick of his hand, she excused herself, locking herself in the bathroom to be out of the way until her Master had need of her.

Sitting back in the rich burgundy throne, the king surveyed his heir. Clair had lost weight, Leorza noted, but he'd also gotten taller. The young man's bangs were still dyed that ridiculous blue, and he still wore that obscenity on his lower lip. Reaching over, the old man gently tugged it off.

His son's long eyelashes fluttered at the sensation. Vision swimming, lilac eyes rested at last on the man in the other chair. "Papa..." he murmured. "I wasn't lying. You're really here." Smiling, he tried to laugh and instead, gasping for breath, nearly fell out of the chair in stifled hysteria. "Y-y-you didn't leave me..."

"My beloved son." The words came unwieldy to his tongue after two years of disuse; unlike Shun, Leorza once acclimated to another way of life did not transition back easily. "What have you done?"

Clair stared at him uncomprehendingly, grappling with the question. A bleak smile split his face. "'M Vampire, Papa. Just like you wanted me to be." He slid down in the armchair until his head was the only part of him propped up. "Isn't that good?"

Breathing in a sigh, Leorza brushed his fingers across the amulet inside his coat for strength. Perhaps interrogating the boy while the new blood remained in his system was a foolish idea. "Listen to me carefully. Why are you in Magnagalia?"

"I'm bored, Papa..." Clair giggled to himself. "And there's a friend I need in my debt."

Leorza frowned. "There was no need to come yourself. My beloved son, Vampire's place is within his empire. Leaving it makes you vulnerable."

"Giovanni's with me..."

"Where is he now?" Leorza asked pointedly. "And where are Mitchal and Ian?"

Clair smushed his lips against something on his hand. "...They...they died, Papa..."

This was news to Leorza. "How?" he demanded, sitting up straighter in his chair; then, thinking it over, amended his question. The conversation, and his subsequent plans, could not progress until he had more information. As did most of his dealings with his son, the query turned into an order. "Tell me everything you have done as Vampire."

So his son, amid vapid laughter, told him. And Leorza, in spite of himself, was impressed by the last part of the story. Shop Echigo...his best friend's pet project...now in the hands of Company Vita. Why, that would be near-unstoppable...but the rest of the tale...

He had to clutch the amulet with a vicelike hand lest that same hand reach out and throttle his son. So all the news reports had been true; no, they had been _tamer_ than truth. Napalm? Threatening other families with grenades? Kidnapping Celestials on a whim? Fixing the market? Pursuing personal vendettas at the company's expense? Nowhere in his painstaking lessons had he taught the boy to be that showy and extravagant. Caution, prudence, well-laid plans: those had gotten "Lorenzo Leonelli" to the top of the pile, and they should have served his successor equally well.

True, even he had tired of playing that safely and had thus showed Trinity a bit more of his hand than he'd intended to originally, but he still had several aces up his sleeves and plenty of backup ideas in store. Clair, though...

"My beloved son." He interrupted the still-rambling, still-groggy young man. "Whatever possessed you to do such things?"

He smiled like a child. "So you'd see them, Papa. So you'd look down and see that I was Vampire like you always wanted. I wanted to be _more_ than you ever wanted...I wanted to do it my way..."

"There is no _your way!_" He stood; Clair's irises drifted lazily up, following him. The sight of that smiling stupid face, not knowing how badly it had erred, made his skin ripple with disgust. "There is only the path I have laid out for you. Obviously you did not study hard enough. I am appalled at your behavior. I left Vita in your hands thinking you would be able to look after it in my absence. I see now I was wrong."

"But Papa..." Clair's face seemed almost tender with hurt, a scolded puppy shrinking backwards with liquid eyes; he cursed himself for drugging the young man, as even a rebel's anger would have been preferable to him at that moment than the crawling slime he had created from the thing he had spawned twenty years ago. "I thought you'd be happy. I did it all for you."

"Ruining my years of---Running amok with my--" He could not think, could not focus, was shaking with badly suppressed rage. It had been building since the beginning of the tale, since the napalm incident, and had only mounted in intensity since. He could feel his ribs literally creak as the anger filled him and threatened to break loose; shaking, he tried to pour himself a glass from the blue-green decanter, but could only force a few drops, barely a trickle, down his throat. It was enough to spark the first bits of the reaction, and in some ways that was worse.

_The dark-haired woman emerged brilliant and smiling from the pool, scattering droplets from her outspread, waving arms as she beckoned him to come closer; he ran to her on a child's legs and let her press him against her body. "It's safe for us, my beloved son. We Wise shall not fall into the same stupor as our Rahman and Loah brothers. No, we are responsible for them in their simple happiness; we bear the burden of reason so they may be free."_

"_I want to be free, Mama," he complained, nuzzling against her collarbone and tasting the liquid speckled across her skin. "I want to be happy."_

"_My beloved son." She ruffled his hair affectionately. "Our happiness must always be different. Now run along!"_

"_Leorza!"_

"_Echigo!" Kissing his mother on the cheek, he ran to see his friend. "How are the Loah doing? It's my responsibility to ask!"_

_Behind him, his mother laughed; his friend hoisted him onto broad shoulders. "I'll have him back by sundown, Vita," he promised the woman._

"_Thank you, Echigo..."_

Echigo...his son was Echigo now...for Echigo was dead...and he hadn't even known it until after the fact. Echigo had been so clever. Echigo had had everything, despite being of the wrong class. He had sworn to protect Echigo and ended up codependent on the older man's patronage. The Loah aged more slowly than even the Wise; had he not been assassinated, Echigo could have ruled from the shadows for centuries.

But now he still lived, and Echigo was dead. Leorza had been dead in Judoh but alive elsewhere while Echigo remained alive to his followers but fed the vermin below ground. What had been his error, his ever-clever reclusive friend? What had he finally done? He had _trusted..._like Leorza had trusted...did that mean he would fail, as well?

"Papa..." a strangled voice hiccoughed. "Do you...hate me, Papa?"

Blinking the fog of the connection away, he stared down at the scene below him. He stood over his son's fallen, bruised body; one fist ached, as if he'd hit something with it. Clair, still smiling, stared up at him with dilated pupils through a black eye; his chest was already beginning to flush purple from a blow. "Papa..." he whimpered. "I'm still not good enough, am I?"

Staring at both his hand and the wretched thing on the floor with utter revulsion, Leorza stepped back, away from the scene and from what he had done. He had sworn never to lose control, but here he was, beating senseless his own creation. Was he truly such an abysmal excuse for a god? He had to _keep_ the young man's love to be successful, not flay it out of his blood!

"U-Usagi," he ordered, ashamed that his voice quaked. "C-come here."

"Yes, Master." She came out and flinched, seeing Clair on the floor. "Master, why?"

"I need you two to do something for me," he told the pair, sitting back in the chair and forcing Lorenzo Leonelli back into place. "Usagi, return my son to his friends, but remain yourself unseen. We are finished for now. My beloved son, you must promise me something."

"Anything, Papa." The boy touched his own face in amazement, mildly puzzled at the sore spots.

"You must bring your friends here, but do not tell them where they are going. I wish to talk to them as well." Eliminate the threat with as little effort and mess as possible. Sending Usagi again would be foolish; her method of dealing with obstacles left too many stains. "You must do this for me. Do you understand?"

He nodded and coughed and laughed at the same time; Leorza swallowed as the bile rose in his throat. "Excellent, Clair. Well..." He steeled himself for the lie. "Well done."

Sighing in contentment, Clair's entire body relaxed and he let his joy suffuse his entire being. A rare expression of peace alighted on his bruised face. "Thank you, Papa."

"We shall go, then," Usagi said, picking Clair up in both arms like she was cradling a baby and walking to the door. "I shall return shortly."

"Very good." Something was still bothering him, nagging at his mind—oh yes. Usagi had reacted upon seeing his son's condition. She was supposed to be placid. Unhooking the amulet from where it hung in his coat, he walked over to her and placed it around her neck. "A loan until you return," he explained. "To give you comfort against the unpleasantness."

She flushed with the same joy as Clair, even smiling a little. "Thank you, Master," she replied softly, then turned and walked out solemnly. He watched them until they turned the corner down the hallway, then went back into his apartment and shut the door. That was that, then. He hoped the promise made under the new blood would stay rooted as a conviction in his son's head even after the effects of the diluted liquid wore off.

Did that really tie everything up he needed to? He was in talks with the Celestials about his plans—not explicitly, but dropping just enough hints and spinning ideas just so to make them more appealing—and he had Trinity pacified for now. How had he managed that...?

Remembering, he swore. So not everything worked out after all. The young man from Judoh knew of him, and even if he never got back to his home country, he could still spread the word.

Leorza's work was not finished, then. Gift to Baroness or no gift, he still had to kill Marius's boy. Nona's boy.He was a bearer of ill tidings for her all around, wasn't he? First it had been the revelation about her elder son, and now he would have to send his waif to kill her baby.

Thinking of the deed that way made him smile.


	12. Recognition, Waking

**Episode 12: Recognition (Waking)**

He woke to a gentle rocking feeling as she carried him in her arms, but did not let himself be lulled back to sleep. Eyes snapping open, he gritted his teeth as both memory and pain flooded his senses. He'd made a total idiot out of himself in the presence of the one man whose opinion truly mattered. And he'd been duly punished for it.

Twisting his body to roll out of the girl's hold, Clair landed clumsily but was soon on his feet again, hidden pistol out and pointing at her. He surveyed the surroundings: they were atop a building somewhere. No way down without the girl. "Don't move," he cautioned her, smirking grimly.

She stepped backwards in surprise, hands straying to something around her neck. "You shouldn't be...Master!"

Seeing the bud into which she spoke, he yanked it out of her ear and crushed it underneath his heel, grinning as he ground it back and forth. "I don't think so, Papa," he exulted to himself. "Not after what you did to me." Anger, hot and sluggish molten lead that it was, replaced the drug in his circulation. Anger at being used...anger at being hit...anger at being humiliated...anger at something else, something horrible and unspeakable that flitted in the corner of his mind and whispered that the past two years of his life had been meaningless.

Deprived of her lifeline, the girl plainly had no idea what to do. He had seen (though dimly) her prowess with her knife, yet in the face of her Master's son she plainly did not know whether or not to draw her blade. Hands on the thing hanging around her throat to fuel her courage, she closed her eyes and began to breathe shallowly. Sleep? A trance? He didn't trust it.

Her eyes sprung open, tears decorating them, as he grabbed her ragged blue hair close to her scalp and wrenched it. "I hate trash like you," he told her as she struggled in his hold. "What good's a flunky who can't relieve her employer of problems?"

Gasping, she tried to enter her trance again; he grabbed the amulet around her neck and, pulling the string over her head, yanked it free. Dangling it from the barrel of his gun just out of her reach, he twisted her hair again with the other; she moaned softly. "You shouldn't be..."

Letting her go, he kicked her side as she stumbled backwards, stomach wide open. "I'm full of surprises. And I always wake up with a clear head. Now listen here..."

"Usagi," she whispered, cowering on the ground. "My name is Usagi."

What, did she think he cared? "Fine, Miss Bunny. You'll do what Papa said and keep hopping. You'll hop me all the way back to my friends like a good little girl. And we'll decide what to do with you from there."

Her eyes lingered hungrily on the amulet; he slipped it around his own neck and felt it—pulse?--against his bruised skin. The pain lessened, and he pointed the gun at her again. "Now let's go. I'm not in a good mood and hate being kept waiting."

She nodded dumbly, picking him up again and leaping into the air with the barrel of Clair's gun still staring at her head. Settling himself back into a more comfortable position in her arms, he frowned and passed a finger over his bottom lip. The ring was gone.

"That's petty, Papa..." he muttered, amused in spite of himself. It was so much easier to laugh at his father's squeamishness over body piercings than to grapple with the rest of what had transpired in the apartment. He knew it all had happened, but his mind had built a shield around the awful implications of the encounter, and so long as the shield held he was safe.

It would not break. He could not even entertain the notion for an instant that it would break. Because the minute he admitted the weakness of the shield, it would shatter. And it was all that was keeping him standing.

O0o0o0o0o0

"Usagi? Usagi!" The line had gone dead shortly after crackling awake. Walking to the window with the phone still held to his ear, Leorza stuck his fingers through the slotted blinds and, through the resulting peephole, looked out at the city around him. Nothing on the skyline or the streets below belied what might have happened to the girl. He hadn't expected it to.

Frowing, he tried another number. No reply on that line either. This kept getting worse. Trinity _never_ switched off her phone unless she had tired of an ongoing conversation. Usagi's earbud had stopped transmitting. Trinity didn't want to be disturbed.

"Damn the woman," he scowled to himself, and tried the front desk of the Barony. Finally, a human voice answered. He asked it a few fruitless questions and hung up, still discontent. No one knew where Baroness was. The arena was temporarily closed. The picture just kept getting bleaker.

Well, there wasn't anything he could do for the time being but sit back and wait for the worst, was there? It would be fruitless to go flying out the door in a frantic search for the girl and his son lest they have run into danger from the syndicate. He had to trust Usagi to be resourceful as ever, to defend his son to the death if need be. Clair certainly wasn't in any condition to defend himself.

Damn it, he had left his weak link even more vulnerable! If Trinity caught Clair—if she explained to him what Papa was really up to—it was all over. And if Clair fell to the syndicate before his allotted task had been completed, that left a posse of Judoh citizens running around with the knowledge that the old Vampire still lived. To say nothing of Nona and her whelp!

He had felt enemies encroaching around him in a circle before, but never had the sensation endowed him with the same pathetic feeling of helplessness. Such worry, he reminded himself, was useless. He did not wish to entertain notions and emotions he could not later use.

Sitting back in his armchair, Leorza switched on his television. No point in just sitting around fretting when he could watch the news for possible updates.

Technology, as was its intended purpose, provided instant gratification. "While we dare not enter the Celestial ship proper," reported the young lady on camera, "we all nervously await the outcome of the attack. Police have surrounded the ship and are calling for the attackers to come out. It is only a matter of time now before they are captured. We can only hope the Celestials will emerge from this unprovoked attack unscathed and still willing to negotiate with us."

He poured himself a glass of wine as the screen went to a commercial and sipped thoughtfully. Only one person in all Magnagalia had the guts to pull off something like attacking the guardians of the city—yet that same person stood to gain nothing from such a maneuver. Was this some new threat, then, and not the syndicate? It would explain Trinity's deactivated phone, however...

The news bulletin sprang back onscreen. "New developments in the harbor where the Celestials' vessel has been assaulted! The police are currently in the process of dealing with unruly pedestrians claiming their friend is being held hostage aboard the ship! No word as of yet whether there is any truth in the statement."

"I saw 'im!" someone just off-camera yelled. "When the ship was taken! There was a boy with a blindfold on!"

"Thank you!" another voice, a young woman from the sound, shouted in reply; gunshots were heard and the camera panned, then suddenly the screen filled with clouds of smoke.

"A bomb?" someone yelled; silhouettes could barely be seen running around.

"The camera! Take out the camera, Kyo--"

The camera cut out abruptly, buzzing into static, then silence. Leorza finished his wine and poured himself another. Surprisingly to even himself, he felt much better already about the overall situation. At least now he wasn't the only one with an inordinate amount of problems.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

As before, Boma sensed the girl before he saw her, keeping to back alleys with his two companions so as to remain unseen. He did not inform his companions immediately, however; the situation was not as dire as they had feared after all.

None of the trio, after a thorough going-over of the area where their quarry had vanished, could hazard a guess as to where the kidnapper and her captive had fled, so Boma had simply led them along routes he knew well, areas where the lowest of the low hid from the law. He himself had never sought refuge for long in these shadowy places, being prey for some of the fallen populace, but he and Brad had often skulked in bars between jobs while the cops were still on their tails. They were lonely, run-down places, no-man's-lands where even the police dared to tread; nothing united the scum of the earth like a common threat, and no person wearing justice's brand had escaped a raid of the Low Area in over a decade. The escaped beasts and those long overdue to be beasts ran in flea-bitten packs along these streets. Boma, unwilling to be recognized, kept his holograph mask on.

They had been braving the taverns and holes, asking for news of a blue-haired girl who moved like lightning and her possible burden, but had met with only drunken stares and jeers. Most of the latter had been directed at Shun, whose meticulous appearance and dignified bearing shone like a beacon of hated respectability in the dingy urban swamp. Giovanni had threatened, much to Shun's poorly-stifled indignancy, to dunk the man's platinum head in the garbage lining the streets, were he to "interfere" with the search again. Boma could sympathize with the bodyguard's irritation, and in fact found him to be rather forgiving. On his own, more illusory quest, he had killed men for similar slights.

At length both men noticed the werewolf's bristling tension. "What is it?" Shun asked, muffling insistence about as well as he had covered his earlier anger regarding Giovanni's snide threats. "What's out there?"

Giovanni himself didn't waste his breath asking questions. He just drew both guns.

A slim figure dashed from one side of an adjacent alley to another; the three pivoted and gave pursuit. Boma grabbed the girl as she dropped her cargo on the ground, but like fog she slipped from his hands and disappeared again. He scolded himself for not attempting to wound her before making the capture. Once again, he had been careless. At least they had their objective back now.

"Who let her get away?" Clair demanded, his eyes wide and repellent as Shun and Giovanni ran up to him. "Boma! Where'd she go?"

"She is gone," Boma reported grimly as Giovanni took his Vampire by the shoulders and stared at him for several long moments, as if wanting to ascertain it was really him. Clair passed inspection, apparently, with a sly smile.

"Yes, it's really me, Giovanni. It's only been a few hours, after all. You've spent longer without me."

"Vampire...damn, what happened..." Giovanni wavered between touching the puffy skin on his young master's face and maintaining a respectful distance. Choosing the latter, the outstretched hand clenched into a fist. "Where's the bastard that did it?"

"This is how much Papa loves me," Clair replied, indicating the bruises with an almost casual hand. He smiled. "You should have more faith in me, Giovanni. I wasn't lying."

"Are you suggesting that Lorenzo Leonelli is alive?" Shun demanded, sounding every bit as extraneous as he looked.

Clair looked over, disinterested. "Oh." He sounded vaguely surprised. "You're here. Where are the others, then?"

As quickly as he could, Giovanni brought his employer up to date on the Special Unit's recent activities. Listening, Clair jerked his head in Shun's direction.

"So why's he here if the others went after his brother?"

"Beats me, Vampire."

"Excuse me." Shun stepped between the pair. "I am here and can speak perfectly well for myself."

Boma, sensing nothing of great importance was going to be happening anytime soon, allowed his mind to wander slightly. He cast his thoughts back in particular to the few moments in which he'd managed to hold onto the girl. She had stared at him in fear, to be certain, but there had been another component to the expression—was it recognition? Why would she know him? Certainly he had never seen her before...but then why did she nag at him so? People came and left his life all the time, slipping past his senses unobtrusively. Why the hangup over this girl? This very familiar yet alien girl, for whom he'd neglected the original rescue? What about her touched him so?

Stoically he combed his memories of Magnagalia, searching for any day, any glimpse, he might have had of her...but only Kyoko swam into his mind. Kyoko? Why? She was not from his home, she had no relevance...yet there she was, filed precisely alongside the girl in his thoughts. Kyoko in the rain, speaking kindly to him after he'd saved her life. He hadn't known her as Kyoko then; he had at first mistaken her for...

But that girl was dead, he reminded himself. That girl was dead, and he had never even known her. She had not been his sister. He couldn't even remember ever seeing a photograph. The person for whom he had mistaken Kyoko had never actually lived.

Yet her vague shadow overlapped and filled in the contours of the lightning-girl in his mind. The conjured memories returned, with the new girl's face atop the body in the field...or had it been the same face all along?

"Clair." He did not know if he would be interrupting anything, and did not care. "Did your kidnapper tell you her name?"

His three companions looked over at him, Clair's eyebrows quirking in mild irritation: so he _had_ been speaking. "Usagi," the young man replied crossly, lazily shoving one hand into his only grenadeless pocket. "Does that really matter? She got away."

"Usagi," Boma repeated, thunderstruck; in his ears a young girl's laughter crashed and danced. It was all coincidence. She was not real. He had conjured her from nothing. No one had ever laughed with him like that, no one had so desperately needed his protection. Certainly not this new girl, this Usagi who could stop bullets with knives and escape even him. She was not...he would not admit she was...

He looked down at his hands, hands that had just minutes ago held her. Suddenly he understood why Clair had been taken so easily: in the aftermath of seeing the dead alive and well, the entire human microcosm refused to operate properly until the paradox was sorted out. So he, as usual, invented a solution. "My Usagi."

o0o0o0o0o0

Whoever invented Blue Tab shock bullets deserved either her eternal gratitude or her utter condemnation, Kyoko decided. On the one hand, she could fight opponents without having to worry about killing men and women with families and futures waiting for them elsewhere. But on the other, they were so _enabling_. Knowing no one would die, she became so much more reckless.

"The camera! Take out the camera, Kyoko!"

The news team screamed and ran as the young woman dispatched their equipment with one well-aimed round of charged ammunition. She felt like cheering—she'd hit her target!--but knew that in the middle of a raid was not the time. And if they ever were going to get to Daisuke, it was best to do so when his opponents were cornered like they would be aboard the Celestial ship.

"J! Rapid cooling cycle again!" she ordered, running towards the ramp. "The smoke's clearing!"

"Roger," the android replied, shooting out steam from the twin pipes on either side of his head. "Hold on, Monica." Picking up the small girl, he dashed with prodigious speed to the ship and jumped aboard. Kyoko followed, trading shots with the police barricade. Neither could see the other well through the steam, so she had no idea how many she had knocked down. Bullets whizzed past her head and bounced harmlessly off the Celestials' ship as she made it, gasping and heart pounding, safely aboard.

"Infiltration successful," she reported, ducking into the same hallway as her friends. "Now what, J?"

But the machine was having second thoughts. "We should not have fired at officers of the law," he pointed out. "I will apologize."

"You will get back here," Monica corrected crossly, grabbing him by the black trenchcoat to get his attention. "And you will tell us where Daisuke is, assuming your telemeter's working right now."

"The abnormality is strange. I will mention it to Antonia when next we meet."

"J!!"

"Daisuke is in the lowest level of this ship. I will retrieve him." Holding onto his hat, J took off down the hall, leg pistons pumping.

"He better not get himself blown up," Monica said sourly as she and Kyoko ran after him. "We didn't bring anyone who knows how to fix him. And we're still too full."

At that moment, however, Kyoko would have preferred their ranks to have perhaps swelled a bit more, or at the very least that Clair wouldn't have been taken and thus the group remained intact. Again she wondered at Shun's disappearance, but she had to focus on finding Daisuke now, not on where his brother had gone.

To that end, she began counting her paces as she ran, gun lowered but ready. "One, two, one, two, one, two..."

"You are such a freak."

"Excuse me!" Kyoko was offended. "I believe I have every right to infiltrate the way I want--"

They both nearly ran into J, who had stopped rather suddenly. "Celestials ahead," J explained. "Should I capture them?"

"Celestials?" Monica ran out before Kyoko could stop her, readying her camera. The pair of white-clad people rounding the corner of the bright hallway threw their arms across their faces in shock and fear as an even brighter light flashed before them.

Opening their eyes, the two Celestials—both male--stared in curiosity and fright at the group as Monica lowered her camera. "Why have more come?" one asked. "We are speaking things over with your master in the conference area. There is no need for you here. Please leave."

"We have come for Daisuke Aurora," J replied. "Is he in the conference area as well?"

The two Celestials exchanged glances. "We heard gunfire outside," the other ventured carefully, skirting the question. "Why have you brought such evils among us?"

Kyoko popped a Blue Tab out of her ammo pouch and showed it to them. "Stun bullets. We don't want to kill anyone or spread evil. We just want to get our friend back, who is being held hostage here. Could you please show us to him? He's about this tall" --she gestured-- "with curly blond hair and green eyes. He's probably smiling, too."

"Where is Nona?" one of the Celestials asked. "Did she send you?"

"Nona?" Monica frowned. "Who the heck is that?"

"Accessing memory banks." J's eye sensors adjusted to call up the information. "Nona Aurora is Daisuke's Celestial mother. She left the family eighteen years ago with the coming of the Loah Celestials, causing great emotional stress on her eldest son, Shun Aurora, which ultimately culminated in--"

"We lived that part, J," Kyoko reminded him gently, not liking the way the two Celestials were viewing the tall "man" warily. Then, suddenly, one broke out in a grin.

"Is he a machine?" She nodded, and they stepped forward to get a better look at him, ran their hands over his arms. "Amazing! It's so primitive! Yet it's also very impressive, given your exiguous technology."

"With our _what_?" Monica asked blankly; Kyoko nudged her to be silent and returned to the initial line of conversation. "We didn't even know Nona had come with you, sirs. But Daisuke is our friend from Judoh and we don't want anything to happen to him."

"You came all the way from Judoh? In what?"

"A yacht," Kyoko put in before J could supply the make, model number, comprehensive alterations, brand of paint used, or any other extraneous information about the vessel. Really, the fate of the world rested on such scatterbrained people? How had it managed to survive all these years? "Could we have Daisuke back, please? We don't want to intrude on you any longer than we have to."

"He is in the conference room," they replied, turning and motioning for the trio to follow. "We are very glad you have come. No one knows what to do about the other machine, but you can help us!"

Oh dear, Kyoko thought to herself, loading her gun with Red Tabs despite her earlier placation. _Other_ machine?

O0o0o0o0o0

Lying flat on her back, the sun baking down on the rooftop, Nona's mind flew through the air on the winds. Spreading out her perception of the living, breathing natural world around her, she sought others with similar connections, pale hands folded over the amulet resting gently between her breasts. Most of the auras, of course, projected themselves from the harbor where her people had docked; were they looking for her? Scrying took more intuition than most of them possessed: you needed to know the precise waves of the individual token you sought, and Nona's was a particularly difficult one to grasp. No, they would not find her easily, especially since her mind was closed to them now. They could not help her feel better. They could not make the bad feelings go away. Only one person, one person who knew more than was his due, could perform that service for her—much as she detested crawling to him.

There he was, now, there was his amulet's signal. After eighteen years, it remained fresh and new in her mind: old friendships, she supposed, died hard, even after too much transpired between individuals to merit continuation of the same feelings. The new blood was supposed to guard against such harmful attachments. She was not supposed to feel pain at their estrangement, at how much he had changed. But Marius had changed her, as much as she tried to slip back into her old ways of being. He had made her wonder how she felt about things for the first time in her life.

That was how she had discovered she knew how to love. How she loved Marius more than anyone else she had ever met. How she...had loved...another before him. And how that love had turned into hate upon discovering what that earlier man really was, what he was intent on making her brother become.

She had sworn never to speak to him again after his success. Yet here she was, seeking him still. Walking over to the trapdoor whence she had ascended to the top of the building unseen, Nona began the long trek back down to earth in pursuit of the aura firmly pinpointed in her mind. He was not so far away, she could catch him easily! It was almost all over!

Yet things were not destined to be so simple. She arrived--bruised, cut, and smudged from slogging through back ways; out of breath from running after a leering man who stank of alcohol tried to touch her hair—only to find the amulet hanging around the wrong neck.

Staring in disappointment and walled-off hurt, Nona numbly realized that she would never find the one she sought now. She had never seen this young man before in her life; nor did she recognize at first his companions. Then, something stirring in her mind, she turned to one of them in wonder. It wasn't quite the same face...but it was so _close_.

"Go away!" He whirled on her, pointing his gun at her chest; his companions raised a cry but, confused, made no move to interfere.

"Brother?" Trembling, she reached out for him despite the gun; he recoiled but did not fire. "Brother, it's me. It's Nona. Is it really you?"

The man choked on something, pale-faced and sweaty; he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose as she came closer in now-rapt curiosity about him. "N-no," he forced his through his tightly-drawn lips; the gun dropped as she drew close enough to touch. "It's not Echigo. It's me...Mother, it's me."

Nona stared; a small boy in a car watching his mother leave stared back through pale green eyes. The next thing either of them knew, she had him tightly around the chest, holding him close to her and breathing in the scent of a little boy she had sung to sleep on countless nights. All the emotions she'd denied came rushing back to bathe both of them: the hurt, the pain, the love, the determination that her sons were happy, happy, happy. Her sons were happy without her, together with their father where they belonged. No, their father was dead, and her brother was dead, and her son had killed him, but here was her son, alive, and that was all that mattered.

A lone tear trickled down his cheek as she breathed into his ear. "I've missed you...I missed you, Shun."

Slowly, robotically, his arms wrapped around her as well, and he rested his head on her own. "I...missed you too, Mother."


	13. Memory, Mother

**Episode 13: Memory (Mother)**

Upon reporting that she had indeed delivered her Master's son to his former companions but that she had lost his amulet (to say nothing of the earbud!) to that same son, Usagi had fully expected to be struck for her ineptitude. After all, Master had lent it to her, and she had not taken care of it as was her duty. She deserved—almost wanted—to be punished.

But instead of the cuff across the cheek she had expected, she found herself pouring him a drink and answering still more questions.

"Who exactly was with him?" her Master asked, barely touching his wine. She sat up more stiffly in her chair to report.

"Three men, two dark-haired and one blond. Master..." Uncertain how to phrase her question, she paused.

"Yes, Usagi?" He crossed his legs, folded his hands across his lap as he sat back in his armchair.

"First I must make a confession. I was almost captured by one of the dark-haired men." His eyebrows rose. "This is not the first time he has been aware of me before anyone should be. This man...should we meet again, I fear he will defeat me." She looked down, unwilling to divulge her true question though it waited eagerly just behind her lips. "And already I have failed you."

"What, the necklace?" He waved the loss away with a graceful hand. "My son cannot use it. I regret its loss, but in his possession it is at best a balm for sore wounds. As for this mysterious dark-haired man...you have not told me all, have you, Usagi?"

"No, Master. I believe I...something tells me that I should recognize this man. I have tried to see him elsewhere in my memory, but every time I only remember the beast masters' faces and not his."

"Think nothing of it, Usagi." His glass was empty at last; she moved to refill it but he picked it up first, filling it instead with the bluegreen liquid in the other decanter. "I need to be alone for a while to think things through. Will you do something for me?"

"Of course, Master." She stood, ready for her orders.

"Do you remember the boy you saved from prison?"

"Daisuke Aurora," she replied promptly. "Yes, I remember."

"That's good." He stirred the contents of his glass. "Kill him."

"Yes, Master." Bowing, she faded into the shadows. He waited until he was certain she had gone before downing the glass in a single go, throwing his white head back and settling into his chair. What did the new blood think he needed to forget in order to be happy? Were he to discover that, it might give him some clue as to what troubled him still.

As usual, the new blood was prompt. He felt the world blurring and sliding away almost immediately after the liquid passed through his lips, relaxed and let it take him where it would. He was Wise, after all. He could disconnect whenever he chose.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

"_Somehow I knew it would be you." His old friend stepped out of the forest to greet him, lowering a gun. "Thank you for accepting my invitation."_

"_You've done quite well for yourself, Echigo," he replied, climbing out of his boat and refusing to acknowledge the gratitude. "Don't you have scavenger troubles, though?"_

_The platinum-haired man gestured to the young woman standing behind him. "That's what she is for."_

"_Machine?"_

"_Only the best."_

"_Echigo, you indulge yourself in human destructiveness too much." Together they began the winding trek back to the mansion, the maid-machine following close behind. "If you aren't careful, such tendencies will bring you sorrow."_

_Echigo snorted what might have been a laugh. "Still her son, eh? Duty and responsibility always. Well, I'm doing my duty, even though I'm a lowly Loah. That city can't run without me and it knows it. But you! You seem to be seeking a similar foothold."_

"_I haven't gotten very far." The same could be said of the walk back; already he felt his breath coming harder. Though he still had many centuries left to live, he was still getting old. Already his hair had whitened. The new blood was weaker in him than in most, he knew, and the constant reminders were a tad annoying. "True, my assistant is invaluable in establishing connections, but aside from that I am just one small enterprise threatened on all sides."_

_His friend nodded. "I understand. Fortunately the grace of our people is with you. Already I hear talk of great things to come from 'Lorenzo Leonelli', should he get more followers. They see you as a threat, but also as a desired ally because of your potential."_

"_Which is where I was hoping you would come in," he replied daringly. "Being already so firmly entrenched in the lives of everyone in Judoh, your support would most likely triple my holdings at least."_

_Smiling, his friend kicked at a passing vine. "I see. Thus the reason for the name?"_

"_Not to draw out you specifically, but any of our people thought 'dead' but really only in hiding." The very same purpose, he almost said, as yours for naming your own conglomerate after yourself._

"_Company Vita." Echigo laughed. "She's going to hate it, should she ever find out. Her name on an establishment intended entirely for personal gain."_

_He frowned sharply. "Don't jump to conclusions. And Echigo...my mother is dead."_

_His friend stumbled; the android caught him and helped him find his feet again. "Dead? Vita? But that's impossible. She hasn't aged a day, and no one would--"_

"_Human weapons don't care who they blow up. A bomb drops on a building, people are going to die."_

"_I see." At last they reached the mansion. "You're all right?"_

"_False concern, Echigo?"_

"_Manners."_

"_Whatever you call it, it's wasted on me. We weren't connected, you know that. My devotion to her was as befitted my position as her son." He tilted his head upwards, let the rustling of the trees and the sunlight beaming down on him stream through his body. "I'm happy."_

"_Well, I'm not," Echigo replied darkly. "But you might be able to help in that regard. If I make you great—really the top of your chosen career—what's in it for me?"_

_He explained. It took the better part of an hour, but he didn't really notice. The plan had been forming in his head for months, ever since the eighth city had been shut down, ever since he had closed the casket over his mother's broken body. In his mind, he believed that he held no feelings of filial affection for his mother. Unlooked-at and unwanted in his heart lay the truth._

_In the course of his explanation they had migrated to a sitting room in Echigo's expansive villa; upon hearing the plan's completion, the owner of the house sat back heavily in his high-backed chair. "Well," he said finally. "No one may ever accuse you of not dreaming big enough."_

"_But will you help me? Save your opinions of my ambition for someone who won't call you on your hypocrisy."_

"_Point taken. But Leorza..."_

_They talked long into the night, making plans and reminiscing. More than once Echigo asked after the little sister he had left behind; more than once the question was deferred. Leorza had never failed in his responsibilities to anyone, except once: after his best friend's supposed death, care of said friend's smaller sibling had fallen to him. And he had forsaken her. _

_In his mind, they were all dead, every last one of his Celestial brethren, now that his mother had fallen and their crusading unity dissolved. He never expected to see Nona again._

o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Feeling his mother's arms tighten around him, Shun's insides bubbled in smothered hatred—not of the woman, not of her alone, but of the cruel, sadistic irony of his situation. He had sacrificed his chance to help in Daisuke's rescue for fear of encountering her kind and found himself instead in her embrace. Though his own arms moved almost of their own accord to encircle the woman, he grappled with the urge to push her away, to pick up his dropped weapon and fire, to run—anything but stay in her grasp. What right had she to claim him as her son now? If she'd missed him so damn much, why had she never returned?

He wasn't ready for this yet, wasn't strong enough. Phia's touch lingered in his mother's feel against his skin, telling him to forgive the woman, to save himself by learning to let go; and Daisuke, too, looked out at him through her brimming eyes. But he had clung to the old hatred for eighteen years; it was all that had kept him going at times. His addiction to hate had propelled his life down the careening course it had taken; it was not uncommon, he thought. Why else would he have been treated with such sadistic disdain for the past year? He did not blame the people of Judoh for hating, only for making it more difficult for him to quit the drug himself .

Why didn't he just let go? It would be so simple. Drop his arms, break free; she could not possibly hold him without his consent. So he must have consented. Why?

His head rested on hers the way she had nestled against him to comfort him as a small child. Mother, Mother, it was so cold after Father died, I wanted you to hold me like this but you weren't there. How dare you leave us like that! How dare you leave me to a year alone, with no one but my own nightmares for company. You can't possibly understand how long that is, not you perfect blessed "Celestials" with your health and your beauty and your perfect, selfish happiness. You're a race of cowards! You ignore what you can't stand! I tried to change it, Mother. I saw the problems in the world and tried to fix them. I confronted what I hated. I didn't run away. Not until I was faced with seeing you again. I caved. I ran. So how dare you come now, now of all times, and undo everything I sacrificed my integrity for! How dare you hold me like nothing's happened...

"Father's dead, Mother," he said through stiff lips. "Your _brother_ killed him."

She pulled away at last, but did not let go. "I know," she whispered, almost afraid. She would not meet his eyes. "I heard. And I heard who killed Echigo. Shun, I don't understand."

"You wouldn't," he replied coldly, shrugging off her hands as she tried to press close again. "You can't understand a thing. Because you weren't there."

Clair, either on purpose or just with supremely bad timing, coughed. Remembering their audience and eager for a distraction, Nona looked up; Shun let her go bitterly. Yes, Mother, he thought, trying to compose himself once more. Run away again.

"Oh, I forgot...he's my son, I haven't seen him in so long, that's why...but who are you? That's Leorza's...why do you have it?" She reached out to take the amulet from Clair, who hunched away from her, backing up to put Giovanni between him and the Celestial.

"It's my father's," he growled; Nona blinked in surprise, then rushed to him despite the gun Giovanni drew on her. Now Clair found himself in those long, pale arms. "You must be Leorza's...oh, you poor, poor thing..." She touched his bruises with her own amulet, pulling it out from where she'd kept it tucked under her dress; in its light the blotches shrank and disappeared. "Whatever has he put you through?"

"Let me go," Clair ordered, squirming as he tried to get at his own gun; Giovanni grabbed her shoulder and wrenched her off the young don. Shun felt a hot stab of anger as he watched the bodyguard handle his mother roughly. How dare they...but why should he, Shun, care? Let the criminals do with the woman as they wished. It was her own fault for not knowing her place.

For her part, Nona didn't seem the least offended at the pair's treatment of her. "I didn't believe him at first, but...where is he? Where's Leorza?"

"My father's name is Lorenzo Leonelli." Clair flung the words, sulkily, in her face. Her eyebrows rose; Shun retrieved his handgun and went to reload it, just to have something to distract his mind with, but he hadn't fired a single bullet yet. Maybe he could slip away while she was still distracted, ask for directions to the harbor, and get to Daisuke just as the others ran with him from the Celestial ship...

"You mean you don't know? He didn't tell you? Shun." Oh, damn. "I don't understand. None of you know? I thought you at least would know, after what he told me. I thought you'd spoken..."

"Spoken with who?" He tried to keep the irritation out of his voice by force of habit. "Lorenzo Leonelli? Mother, I only just found out he was still alive." It was hard to look at her; she'd changed so little. Best to stick to business, keep personal feelings out of the equation. After all, given time to think, she could prove to be of use. "But what are you doing here, now? Do you know about Daisuke?"

"Something's happened to Daisuke?" All this new information seemed to threaten her mind with overload. "Where is he? Why are you in Magnagalia? And with Leorza's son..."

"That's not Papa's name!" Pulling out his last remaining grenade, Clair yanked the pin out with his teeth and spat it at her feet. Holding the near-ready explosive over his head and trying to keep Giovanni from taking it away from him, he threatened her with it. "Stop calling him that!"

"Vampire, don't...not now..." The bodyguard finally pried the grenade free. "Sorry about that, lady."

"Vampire?...oh, he gave you the title, too. I'm so sorry..."

"Don't be sorry for me! You don't even _know_ me! Giovanni, give me that!"

"It's not personal. She barely even knows her own sons." Shun couldn't help it; the words slipped free. Nona ignored them, as expected. A few pedestrians wandering by the alley stuck their heads in to see the source of the commotion; Boma, up till then silent, drew his sword and they hastily ran. Satisfied, the werewolf posted himself as guard in the front of the alley until his friends had finished their conversation; he was not a part of it, and had his own problems.

For their part, his friends hardly noticed. "Don't be scared of me," Nona pleaded with Clair. "Please. I know your father well. We were on the same inspection team before he..."

Giving up on the grenade, Clair pulled his gun._ "Shut up! _My father is not a Celestial!" To his astonishment, Shun found his own gun pointed at Clair's head. Why would he have...?

"Drop it, Dictator." Giovanni went for his own pair of weapons. "Don't even try."

"I wasn't going to," he replied, lowering his arm. "I don't know..." Wait. Lorenzo Leonelli was a Celestial? Then his connection with Echigo was because--

"Echigo funded Company Vita, didn't he?" Shun asked his mother. "From the very beginning." She nodded; he cursed himself. Of course. Of course. It all made sense. Of course every person on the planet who hurt him was a Celestial. He should have expected something similar from the moment he discovered Echigo's identity. Of course they all had to be beyond his reach...but Echigo hadn't been, had he? He had paid...

"They worked together to 'help' the people of Judoh from within," his mother explained to Clair, a strange wryness twisting her voice. "Neither approved of lording themselves impersonally the way the inspection teams did, though I don't understand why they considered themselves different..."

Clair's eyes were wide; his hands went to his ears. "Stop..." he nearly begged. "I don't want to hear it..."

"...but Leorza was always talking about his plans to have a son and found an empire..."

"...I don't want to..."

"Lady, Vampire told you to stop. Knock it off." Giovanni seemed reluctant, for once, to stand up for his employer. Shun also found himself wanting her to continue.

"...except now I'm frightened and have to find him, because he's the only one who understands what's going on and why all these horrible things have happened; he told me about you, too, Shun, and I'm sure he knows about whatever's going on with Daisuke..."

"You want to see my Papa?" Clair asked haggardly, his hands dropping from his ears but his gun still held tight in pale fingers. "I can do that. I can take you to him...I have to...I have to take all of you...he made me p-p-promise..." He grabbed the amulet with the hand not holding the weapon, squeezed it tight. "Come with me. All of you. Now." A strange light gleamed in his violet eyes.

"Vampire..."

Clair fired; the bullet barely missed Giovanni's ear. "No protesting," he breathed slowly as the bodyguard, stupefied, stared at the smoking barrel. "I promised him." He began to laugh, heaving gasps wracking his body. "I'm a g-g-good son..."

Nona shrank against Shun, who resented being her pillar of strength when she had left him without one for so long. Wide-eyed, she tugged on his sleeve. "Let's go, Shun." Her voice broke. "Whatever has he done...to his own child..."

"Oh, nothing," Shun replied caustically. "Just abandoned him to fend for himself in a horrible world and then suddenly returned, expecting everything to be just as it was before." Empathy for Clair Leonelli? From him? What was the world coming to, that he could sympathize with such a...such a _thing? _"Let's go, Mother."

o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Nervous rumblings rippled through the conference room; letting them wash right over him, Daisuke leaned back in his chair and tried to relax despite the uncomfortable blindfold. Trinity had finally wised up and actually tied his hands behind his back with something—it felt like a ribbon, but _damn_ was it tight; he couldn't get it to budge—so he couldn't sit back too far. Apparently noticing his smile, she stabbed his foot with her heel from where she sat next to him. The captive was plainly not supposed to enjoy being barter material, especially when the actual bartering wasn't going so well.

"But when can you expect this Nona to come back? Because my little friend Grendel here, he doesn't like the boy too much. There's no telling what he'll do. Why, he might even tear off an arm like he accidentally did to your pal back there."

"Evil one! We will never bow to your demands!" someone cried hotly; another, graver voice placated him.

"It is as much our fault this happened as it is theirs. We allowed them to contaminate this ship, and we are suffering for it. We must remain calm and treat with the evil ones in civility."

"We should never have listened to Leorza," another chimed in. "This city cannot be saved."

Trinity laughed. "Oh, but he's such a pretty speaker, I can't blame you for believing him. Certainly _he_ thinks he can save the world, doesn't he?"

Were they talking about the same Leorza? They had to be, but...from what Daisuke knew about the man's goals during his incognito stay in Judoh, "save the world" had hardly topped his priority list. Unless something more was going on...the Special Unit operative in him sensed a plot. Too bad he was unarmed, partnerless, and about to die. This looked like it might have been a fun case. Lots of surprises.

As if responding to his thoughts, a crash resounded suddenly through the room: someone breaking through the door? Daisuke wondered. The sound had come from the right direction. Commotion erupted as Celestials ran for cover and Trinity, dumbfounded and angry, leapt up, hauling Daisuke to his feet as well and cramming the gun against his head once more. Jeez, she was going to leave a mark on that temple. Daisuke hoped that at least it wouldn't bruise.

"Oh, boy," Grendel said behind him, joints creaking and whirring as he presumably limbered up. "A contender at last."

A what? wondered Daisuke, but his thoughts were interrupted by a familiar, gravelly voice and the almost howling sound of twin valves letting off steam.

"Daisuke Aurora confirmed. I will rescue him."

"J!" Daisuke yelled as Grendel thundered forth to battle. "Look out!" Lowering his voice and grinning, he added cheekily, "What, you aren't going to call me 'cute' or 'angel'?"

"That's my line, actually," a saucy voice informed him next to his ear, and the blindfold slipped away. Turquoise eyes beamed into his own, bobbed pink hair swung around a relieved girlish face. Kyoko winked as, her gun still pointed at Trinity, she helped Daisuke stand. "It's been a year, Daisuke. No friendly greeting?"

"Yeah, you're rude!" Monica yelled from the doorway, ducking out of sight as Grendel and J, interlocked in combat, crashed into the wall next to her head. Safe behind the wall, she added, "We went all this way for you! The least you could do is thank us!"

"Hey, hey, give me time," Daisuke chided, twisting his head to see if there was any way to free his hands. There wasn't. Next to him, Trinity's eyes darted from her escaping captive to the young woman holding her at gunpoint, unsure of who to threaten. The Celestials in the room had run the first chance they'd gotten; it was just her, Daisuke, Kyoko, and the still-wrestling Grendel and J in the room. Not too many options open, were there? Daisuke chuckled, feeling a little guilty about taking pleasure from the woman's apparent helplessness but unable to stop himself.

"Guess you should've kept me in the arena," he told her ruefully. "That way you might have made some money off of this."

She smirked. "Just wait," she predicted grimly, jerking her head towards the two machines and finally making a decision: shooting Kyoko's gun out of the startled young woman's hands with practiced accuracy, she grabbed Daisuke and, forcing him back into his chair, sat on top of him with the gun up against his chest. She knew from his arena fights that he wore no bulletproof vest. "It's not over yet."

Kyoko, rattled, picked up her weapon; her face fell upon the discovery that Trinity's shot had punctured it. "What kind of gun do you _have_?" she asked incredulously.

"I made it myself," Trinity replied lazily, adjusting her weight in Daisuke's lap; he flamed bright red, as did Kyoko. "And I'm very, very good at what I do."

"I'll say, ma'am." She turned the broken weapon over in her hands. "I've squandered the citizens' tax money with my ineptitude..."

"The world will go on," Daisuke assured the distraught secretary over Trinity's shoulder.

"Holy—what are you doing to Daisuke, you slut???" Monica's head popped back through the doorway, closely followed by the rest of her. "Get off him right now!"

"Grendel, nab the kid," Trinity ordered in an almost bored tone, picking at a loose thread in her fishnets. "That'll give them something to think about."

"Class A murder technology detected," J reported as Grendel's body stiffened at the order, then seemed to almost bulk in artificial muscle. "I will capture it."

"Just try!" One fist to the cheek sent the Special Unit machine staggering backwards, unprepared; three clanking steps, and Monica was in Grendel's metal clutches. Screaming, she beat at him with her fists and tried to get him to put her down, but instead he turned and ran down the hall, Monica held tightly around the waist by both of his hands. "Catch me, android!" he taunted the pursuing J. "I dare you!"

J lowered his head, held onto his hat. Steam shot out of his sleeves and collar as he tore down the hallway at near-top speed; a resounding crunch signaled that he had caught his quarry rather sooner than the victim had anticipated. Kyoko backed away from Trinity, mind obviously blanking on what to do in the face of these new complications, but she stopped in her tracks as a blade pressed itself against her neck.

"I am going to kill Daisuke Aurora," Usagi informed them all, her murderous sleep finally reclaimed. "If you wish to remain alive, please do not attempt to stop me."


	14. Pollutants, Favors

**Episode 14: Pollutants (Favors)**

As J careened to her rescue, Monica was not so much afraid of her robotic captor as she was angry with him. She had felt awkward enough, standing by while her friends did all the _truly_ heroic stuff—to be taken captive added insult to injury. Or perhaps, she thought as he squeezed a bit tighter, it was injury to insult?

Either way, it was incredibly annoying. "No!" she yelled at J as he threw a punch at Grendel. "Go back and save _Daisuke! He's_ the one we're rescuing right now!"

"Monica is in danger," J replied stoically, dodging as Grendel kicked. "I will save her and then return to Kyoko and Daisuke."

"Dream on," Grendel sneered, his dark face and piggy eyes leering at the black-clad android. "You want the little girl? You'll have to swim for her!" Turning, he ran; J lunged for him and, wrapping his strong arms around the other machine's torso, dragged him to the ground.

Monica screamed as she hit the floor, Grendel's own arms crushing her against the metal. Looking up through tear-streaked eyes, she saw a pair of horrified Celestial faces peering out of a nearby doorway. "_Do_ something!" she yelled at them. "Don't just stand there!" Embarrassed, they retreated. She cursed.

Grendel got to his feet despite J's deathgrip around his middle, forced his way step by straining step up the hallway with Monica still dangling from his fists. "Give it up," he scoffed at J. "You'll never.--"

Gaining a decent foothold at last, J hoisted Grendel with tremendous effort off his feet. "Let Monica go," he ordered.

Craning his neck to look into the face of his arrester, Grendel smiled sweetly—a gruesome sight on his maddened face. "But of course, Grandfather," he replied innocently, opening his hands and dropping Monica in a tangle of scuffed limbs to the floor. Then, as she picked herself up and dusted herself off but before she could yell another warning, he twisted his body free and connected a solid roundhouse punch to the side of J's face.

Monica heard something crack and snap; terrified for J, she hurried back down the hall to get Kyoko and Daisuke. "He's losing!" she yelled, oversized shoes pounding the floor as she ran with all her might. "J's losing! You have to come and--"

"Look out!" Rounding a corner, Kyoko collided with her; down they both fell as Daisuke rushed past, pulled along by a desperate woman in a lab coat and heels. Open for ease of movement, the white garment billowed like a cape behind her; Monica caught a glimpse of what the woman was wearing (or, more specifically, what she _wasn't_ wearing) under the coat and gagged. And she'd thought just _sitting _on Daisuke had been slutty...

"What the heck?" she asked Kyoko as they both stood; the young woman shook her normally perky pink head wearily. A flash of blue bounded past, ruffling both girls' hair in its wake. Down the hall, the woman gave a sudden, strangled yell.

"She's come to kill Daisuke," Kyoko panted, rushing down the hall again. "The other woman broke my gun with hers but then that girl sliced the barrel off with a knife--"

"What other girl?" Monica was already getting tired of all this running back and forth. Her legs weren't as long as her friends', after all. In wordless response, Kyoko pointed.

The woman in the lab coat but not much else had apparently tripped on her own heels, footwear not at all conducive to speed, and lay where she had fallen on the floor, her dark-skinned, curly-haired machine protecting her from a girl in black and blue wielding a twin pair of knives. J, for his part, stood in front of Daisuke defensively.

"You interfered," the girl accused the fallen woman emotionlessly. "Now you must pay."

"I didn't mean to!" The woman curled up on the floor, cowering behind her muscular machine. "Go ahead, kill him! That's all you want, isn't it, Usagi?"

"Usagi?" Kyoko asked in confusion, looking at the girl with the knives. "But it can't be..."

"Should I capture her?" J asked Daisuke, who shrugged.

"She's helped me in the past, so it's a pity she's changed her mind..."

"Stop." Heads turning, the entire group looked up as a small party of Celestials ventured down the hall, masked and cloaked. "One who bears the new blood is contaminating it."

The girl shook as they approached her, purple eyes wide in fright. "No..." she pleaded, blinking herself awake. "Please, no. Don't come closer...it hurts..."

"You fear the connection? What sort of bearer are you?"

"She's still human!" one observed, almost in fear.

"Leave," the Celestials insisted. "The evil on this ship is spreading, and should it reach the new blood there will be no saving anyone." Breathing heavily, the girl nodded, closing her eyes and forcing herself to relax. Her eyes were glassy again when they opened.

Turning back around, she darted around the dark-skinned machine and attacked the woman on the floor, practically a blur as her knives whirled through the air. When she had finished, she stepped backwards and vanished; on the floor, the woman moaned, sliced all over her body with long, shallow cuts.

"The bitch...didn't go for the kill..." Her machine scooped her up and, pushing past J, ran off as well. Daisuke, holding an arm out to bar his partner, let them go.

"Sorry about all this," he apologized to the Celestials with a helpless smile. "Why the getup?"

More joined them in the hall, dressed similarly. "We cannot stay here," one said.

"The evil has stained our ship."

"We must leave until it is clean again."

"We go to hide in the Road."

"Uh, the Road's not exactly clean right now either," Daisuke put in apologetically; Kyoko and Monica exchanged a confused look. "Unless someone's cleaned it up, there's about four dead beast-men lying around."

The Celestials muttered amongst themselves in discontent. Scratching his head, Daisuke turned to the rescue squad.

"While they're busy...I didn't get a chance to say thanks, you know?"

"Yeah, you better," Monica sniffed. "But we did it even without everyone else."

"Everyone else?" Daisuke put his hands in his pockets, regarded the small girl with amusement. "Everyone else who?"

"Though not immediately responsible for the contamination, you have contributed," the Celestials interrupted, having apparently reached a consensus of sorts. "Therefore you shall find us shelter until such a time as we can return here."

"Says who?" yelped Monica in shock; putting a calming hand on the girl's shoulder, Kyoko bobbed her head respectfully. "As you wish, sirs and madams. Please, follow me." In pairs they fell into line behind her: seventeen total, with one bringing up the rear.

"Where are you taking them?" Monica hissed to Kyoko, who was already heading for the deck with new purpose in her step.

"Back to the yacht," Kyoko explained. "It's not very big, but it's a good waiting place. J hid it well. Plus the others will find their way back there sooner or later, so it's a surefire meeting place."

"Hold on," Daisuke interjected. "Yacht? Where'd you get a yacht?"

Kyoko smiled childishly, girlish blush tinging her cheeks. "You're going to be quite impressed with us, I think," she told him. "We've caused almost as much trouble in the past week as you have all last year."

"Use of an illegally doctored craft, aiding in the escape of a convict, passing the twenty-mile mark unlicensed, opening fire on civilians, entering a city without the proper passports, evading arrest, assaulting an officer of the law, use of restricted explosives, damage of private property, interfering with the media," J tallied aloud. "We have committed at least ten infractions. In the past year, by his absence alone Daisuke committed thirteen, though none as major as those we have broken."

"Good grief!" Kyoko turned around. "I forgot about the media! Um, is there a back way out, anyone? We don't want to be seen..."

"Follow us, then," advised the Celestials. Falling in step behind the lines, Daisuke gave a low whistle and ruffled Monica's hair, thinking over the list.

"You've been busy...wait a minute. Aiding in the escape of a convict?"

Kyoko looked down, had to cough. "Um. Yes. About that..." She explained in brief.

The resulting astounded silence was almost as loud as a yell would have been.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o

The doorbell rang in the middle of the night, and Leorza started. Usagi had returned to the apartment just after dark and had nearly immediately retired for the evening to her room, its padded walls keeping out any instructions her impressionable sleeping mind might chance to hear. Her Master himself remained in his chair, watching the news periodically for any word of the missing Celestials and/or their mysterious assailants, and waited for his son to return. Though his opinion of the boy as Vampire was abysmally low, he had a healthy respect for his son's loyalty. Clair would walk through hell for his Papa, of that Leorza was certain; in that regard at least he had not failed in raising his child. And it was a good thing, too, as the hell through which his beloved son would slog through could very well be of his own father's making.

Opening the door in bemusement after checking through the peephole, Leorza let Trinity in, noticing without much interest that her lab coat was once again open and revealing her shocking ensemble. More troubling to him were the cuts all across her body, shallow wounds that only one expertly skilled could inflict without biting too deeply.

"Well, well," he said finally, as she crumpled onto his sofa and lay there for several long moments breathing heavily. Her dark hair tumbled loose and messy around her blanched yet exertion-flushed face; her dull eyes sparkled only slightly with the chance to rest at last. Her blood stained the inside of her coat in places, contrasting in scarlet brilliance with the whiteness of both fabric and bare skin. "Whatever have _you_ been doing all day?"

"_Your_ bitch did this," Trinity spewed at him between heaving gulps of air. "I got in the way and she--"

"Did she not warn you against interference? I made a point of telling her always to issue a warning. I shall have to scold her in the morning."

"Don't be cute. It doesn't suit you. And I'm not in the mood for it." Wearily she dug in her pocket for a cigarette but fumbled clumsily with the lighter.

He assisted her in lighting the cigarette. "I thought you wanted me to be more informal with you. Have you changed your mind, then?"

"I could have _died_," Trinity complained. "I thought the girl wouldn't--"

"Usagi? Usagi cannot distinguish friend from foe without my aid, as you should have well been aware. Do not blame her for your own stupidity. And do something about those cuts before you get blood on my carpet." Realizing there was nothing the woman herself _could_ do, he rose to fetch swabs and bandages from his closet.

"Stop mollycoddling the vicious thing," Trinity called after him as he wandered into the hall in search of the first aid supplies. "She's a highly tuned killing machine, not a little girl you can take on picnics and dress up like a doll."

"I am hardly the picnicking kind, as you well know. Hold still. This will sting, I'm afraid." Leaning over, he began to swab the cuts on her legs with disinfectant; those on her stomach and...elsewhere...he was loath to touch. She blew smoke in his face as he rose to get more bandages. So much for gratitude. "So why run to me, if my agent caused you the troubles?"

"Oh, come on." Her head lolled on the sofa, hair cushioning around her cheeks. "You're the only one who—I was on that ship today and--"

"So I inferred from your condition. Whatever possessed you? What did you hope to gain?"

She laughed soundlessly. "What do you think? Your people leave us poor humans in the dust with the things you create. I wanted a piece of that power. I wanted whatever makes you able to do such things. I wanted new toys..."

"Who's the mollycoddled little girl now?" He had finished with her legs; she stared at him expectantly, and he shivered. Unable to keep his lip from curling or his entire body from shuddering, he dabbed at a cut across her stomach and slapped a bandage onto it with perhaps more force than was necessary. She winced, but smiled at his obvious discomfort.

"Oh, here, I'll do the rest myself," she groaned, grabbing the supplies from him and immediately tending to the injured areas of her breasts, watching him with a wry little grin as he carefully avoided looking at her while she worked. As long as she toyed with him, flirting and flaunting in ways even she considered outrageous, she could ignore her true desires as regarded the man. Playing around, whether with metal or men, had always been her favorite distraction.

"When you're ready to display some sense of decorum and propriety..." he began. She buttoned up her trenchcoat, remembering this time to take her cigarette out of her mouth before gritting her teeth in pain. The cuts would heal quickly, but in the meantime they would take some indulging.

"It's safe," she told him, working herself into something closer to a seated position on his sofa. Glancing over, his relief at her honesty was obvious.

"As you were saying. You ran to my side because...?"

She replaced her cigarette. "Why do I ever come to you, Leorza? Why does anyone? I need your help."

"With an entire syndicate at your disposal?" He sounded doubtful. "My, how parricides diminish in benefits lately."

"I never should have let you find out about that." Giving up on sitting down, she swung her legs onto the couch, repositioning herself into a recline. "He was a dirty, stingy bastard anyhow. You should be grateful to me—he certainly wouldn't have helped you."

"Would you be so kind as to get to the point? This is not a good time for me to be entertaining a guest."

"Tired? I didn't know Celestials slept."

"Don't be ridiculous. We were human once. Some claim we still are. The _point_, Trinity."

"Help me modify Grendel. He beat them today, but he won't always. I need something more, something that will make him truly unstoppable."

"I thought Usagi was supposed to fulfill that purpose."

"What, when they've never fought as a team outside the arena? She proved today I can't rely on the girl. Whatever you did to her mind to make her like that must be programmable too."

"I did nothing to spark the murder drive, or to make it manifest itself only when she sleeps. You should be asking the beast masters if they implanted it in her or if it is natural."

"They're a little boring," Trinity complained. "Three lashes and they spill it all. If I'm going to get easy information, I'd much rather it be from you. Far less messy."

He reached his limit of his patience and buckled. "New blood. She drank undiluted new blood in minimal quantities, and in that state I told her I was her Master. That is all, _all_, I did to the girl, Trinity. It connects her to the natural world around her and heightens her senses while increasing her naivete and walling her off from other sentient beings. It's not just a sedative ingredient."

"I see." She closed her eyes, as if thinking hard; fifteen minutes later they had not yet opened. She had fallen asleep on Leorza's sofa. Sighing, he tried to wake her by yelling and even prodding her in the shoulder, but "Baroness" had had a long day and needed her beauty sleep, it seemed. She refused to wake.

Fuming, Leorza tossed a blanket over the sleeping woman so he wouldn't have to look at her, made himself a pot of coffee to keep him up through the rest of the night, and resumed his anticipation of his son's arrival. The woman's presence had to be regarded as an unnecessary but unavoidable complication.

He need not have worried: though he stayed up all night awaiting the boy, Clair never came.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Night fell. Clair, once his command of the group had been acknowledged by all, made the unfortunate discovery that he could not quite recall the path back to his father's apartment and led them in the direction that felt the most correct to him. By dusk they had found no ex-Vampire, be he Celestial or a mere human the way his son insisted, and so after a brief meal of some of the supplies in Giovanni's pack (supplies bearing the label of the Echigo Group) they huddled in an abandoned tenement for the night. After assurance that his young master had indeed fallen asleep and that Boma would keep watch, Giovanni spread himself out on the ground and was soon also dreaming. Nona lay down with a hand on her amulet and dreamt with her eyes open.

Shun, like Boma, remained awake, but the werewolf seemingly ignored him, focused instead on the outside world. Yet as Shun leaned over to address his supposedly asleep mother, the Magnagalian swiveled his black ears backwards to hear a little better.

"Mother. Mother. I know you aren't sleeping."

"Unh?" She sat up. "Shun. Is something wrong?"

He sighed—barely; Boma hardly heard the breath at all. "What you said earlier about Lorenzo Leonelli. How much of it is true?"

"Why, all of it." She sounded confused. "I wouldn't lie, Shun."

"Of course not." His distaste dripped from his normally smooth, professional voice.

A rustle, and she half-lay cuddling up against him; once again, he looked as if he wanted to pull himself away. "I missed you, my son. You and Daisuke...where is he, anyway? You said something about him."

"I don't know where Daisuke is now," he replied bitterly. "We became separated from the search party. But Leonelli. What interest could he have had in Judoh?"

"You want to know about Leorza?" Her pitch rose slightly; she sounded almost afraid. Then her voice regained its normal balance., grew perhaps a bit grave. "I don't really know what he wanted. I've known him all my life, since before we came back to our old home here. He was always...very kind to me. We saw each other often, as Echigo was his best friend. Of course, his mother was the leader of the expedition, so he was often busy helping her run things, but somehow he always made time for us. He called it his duty." She said the word with obvious confusion; Boma could almost hear Shun smirk.

Nona continued. "He disappeared not long after his mother died and leadership passed to another; we offered him the position but he refused it, saying our goals and his were no longer compatible. I...I think I was the last to see him before he left. He asked me...but what does it matter what he asked? I refused. He scared me that night, saying he would change the world."

"But Echigo," Shun pressed. She shook her head.

"No, no, Shun, I don't want to--"

"Mother." He removed his glasses, wiped them halfheartedly on his trousers. "What about Echigo?"

She closed her eyes. "Please, Shun. Don't."

"Mother. Nothing you say can possibly shock or surprise me. I...you know I spent four years as that man. I think I have a right to know, both as his successor and as his—his nephew—to know on exactly what grounds he dealt with Leonelli." It was the closest Shun Aurora ever got to losing his composure.

"Leorza," she whispered. "His name is Leorza. And Echigo was helping him. My brother, who cared only about profit and power, was helping that man build an empire so he wouldn't have to worry about directly controlling the families himself. Both of them—well, they are what you call Celestials, of course, and so they have the charisma the new blood bestows. So they were both doing very well. Leorza's company was growing, and he had been acknowledged as leader of the underworld. All he needed was a son to ensure his kingdom would be sustained. I think he always planned on returning someday, so he wanted to be certain he'd have a place to return to." She glanced over at where Clair lay, his back to them. "Poor thing. And there's still so much I don't know, Shun...I made a decision when I left the ship yesterday. I want to find him again, and I don't care what he asks me to do. I'll do it, if only he'll take my confusion away. Because I can't ignore it any more, Shun..." Crying softly, she buried her head in his chest and dug her fists into his sleeves.

He put his arm around her with the same reluctance as earlier, but she welcomed even the mechanical comfort. Boma began to feel a bit strange about listening in and wondered if either of them remembered his presence, hidden as he was in the darkness.

Nona held onto her son tightly, softly sobbing away the fear and the uneasiness of eighteen years of conscious ignorance. "Marius..." she whispered as he held her a bit tighter. "Marius, I'm frightened..."

"Father's dead, Mother," Shun repeated with the same blunt unease as before, but his voice was calmer, more comforting. "It's me. It's your son. You can't ignore that anymore, either."

"I never have..." she protested. "I've never done anything wrong. I'm not like Leorza, raising a child as a pawn in some game...I gave birth to you because I loved you, Shun, not because I needed you, I love you...I'm not like him..."

In the darkness, Clair's back twitched. Watching the young man's chest rise and fall, Boma determined that he was not asleep after all, but merely feigning with his eyes closed. What was more, he had likely been doing so for quite some time.

Most likely, he had heard every word.


	15. Pieces, Blood

**Episode 15: Pieces (Blood)**

Upon seeing the yacht for the first time in the dwindling sunlight, all seventeen normally placid Celestials collectively gasped. Kyoko took that to be a bad sign.

"Is something wrong?" she asked the masked, robed figure closest to her; the being shook his (her? its? Kyoko couldn't tell) head.

"Nothing is the matter. We...we were simply not expecting it to be...so small."

"Yes," another agreed. "That is it. Small."

"You crossed the ocean in this? How impressive."

"Were you not quite cramped, all together in this?"

And they'd only seen half of the search-and-rescue party! Kyoko wondered how they were going to stand all living on the ship until whatever "evil pollutant" currently affected their ship had dissipated. Shaking her head, she determined fretting about it wouldn't do anyone a whit of good and climbed aboard, helping the Celestials one by one step onto the vessel. "It's not much, but it'll have to do for now," she said apologetically. "We have some food, but..."

"Look at this!" They had discovered the engine room. "They still use visuals with their radar!"

"They still use radar!"

Feeling vaguely that she should stick up for the craft that got her to Magnagalia in record time but not knowing enough mechanics to put forth a convincing counterargument, Kyoko instead left the Celestials to their amazed, if patronizing, inspection of their new quarters and sidled over to talk to Daisuke. She hadn't been able to speak with him since informing him of Shun's presence somewhere in the city and hoped he was all right. After all, he hadn't come up with an immediate sarcastic rejoinder for her revelation, and in Daisuke Aurora such silence was sure to be a signal of distress.

He didn't look too bad, staring out at the sunset over the ocean with a wistful smile on his features. Unknowingly, he had chosen to survey the view from the very spot on the stern at which her brother had stood to get verbally assaulted by the young secretary. She blushed in remembrance, approaching him.

"Hey, Kyoko. They like it okay?"

"It's a fascinating study in ancient history to them, I think. And you? We're stuck here too, until they leave and..."

"...the others get back?" Daisuke finished, turning to her with a grin. She blushed at being so easily readable. "Don't worry about me. I'm fine." The smile wavered, but only a little. "Damn, but I'm not worth what they're going to put him through!"

"You feel bad about what' s going to happen to Shun in Judoh?" She was confused. "Not angry over his disappearing now?"

Daisuke sighed, but not unhappily. "Bro's too smart to not have figured out what's going to happen when he gets back. The bigwigs upstairs hate him too much to let him get away with something like this, even if no harm was done. For all I know, he's far away by now, already setting up a new life in Magnagalia. Good for him, if it can help him get over the bad hand he thinks he got dealt back home." He tilted his head. "I wonder if he'll meet Mom...she's out and about, apparently..."

Letting his eyes drift across Kyoko lazily, not really looking at her, he suddenly focused again. "Nice pendant, by the way."

She touched the silver bullet lightly with a gloved hand. "What, this?" she asked shyly, playing along. "A friend gave it to me as a souvenir."

"He a good friend of yours?"

"Good enough that I decided I couldn't wait two more years after all." She dared to slide a little closer, debated taking his hand but feared making contact. Once she did, there could be no turning back from admitting her feelings. "Plus he's really, really bad at taking care of himself so I brought him a babysitter."

"Who, J?" He tilted her chin up towards his gently, almost teasingly; she started at his touch but did not pull away.

She shook her head, touching his cheek with the hand that had grazed the bullet. "No, Monica," she replied softly with a tiny impish smile. "She's quite the little captain."

"I'll bet." He pulled her close; she gasped slightly but could not tear her eyes away from his. All she could hear were the waves and his gentle breathing; all she could see was his face, his eyes, coming closer, leaning down, eyes fluttering shut as he moved in to meet her waiting mouth--

"Do you MIND??"

"See?" Kyoko asked, the moment gone, as Daisuke let go and turned to address the "little captain."

"Hey, Monica, it's kind of rude to interrupt people when they're having an important conversation..."

The girl snorted. "For a conversation like that, get a room. In the meantime, come and help J with these crazy people. They want to know about Clair."

"What?" Kyoko frowned. "But they weren't even told--"

"Just come on." Tugging Daisuke by the shirt and Kyoko by the hand (for after all there was not much shirt to tug) she dragged them back to the captain's quarters.

"...but it must have meant _something_ to the founder," insisted one of the Celestials to J, who shook his head impassively.

"No data exists to that end. But that fact is admittedly hardly conclusive."

"What end and what data?" Daisuke sounded almost tired; maybe he wasn't ready to go back to Special Unit jobs after all.

"The meaning behind the name Company Vita," J replied. "The Celestials insist that it means something, but I have checked all available databases and can find no records to support such a conclusion. Still, a man never discounts an unrefuted point."

"And you think I would know this...why?" Daisuke rested his hands behind his head as Kyoko, shocked at his lack of decorum even in the presence of Celestials, bristled in embarrassment. "If you don't, it sure beats the heck out of me, J."

"We merely wish to know what sort of a man runs this organization," a Celestial explained. "The name has a great deal of meaning for us, and its use naturally incites curiosity."

"Vita?" Daisuke frowned. "I hate to tell you people this, but Vita's a criminal organization. What could people like you want with something like that?"

Discontented muttering riffled through the white-robed congregation. "That is a blow," one finally admitted. "It is a shame to see our leader's name profaned."

"Perhaps Rahman's assessment of the city was incomplete. Judoh should be reinspected for further traces of evil."

"And if it is found? What then? Leave it alone."

"Um, excuse me." It felt so disrespectful, interrupting beings she'd been taught since birth to revere, but they certainly hadn't been living up to their reputation so far in Kyoko's eyes and she felt she had a right to make some inquiries of her own. "Someone named Vita is your leader?"

"Was our leader," one corrected almost sadly. "She died over fifty years ago."

"Before the nonaggression pact..."

"Weapons were more readily available..."

"When the eighth city corrupted from within..."

"Section rebelled against section..."

"Vita tried to help, but could not herself escape in time..."

"We shut them down, of course..."

"...then Leorza vanished..."

"...now he's back, pleading for Magnagalia..."

"...we don't know why..."

"Hold it." Daisuke's eyes were closed like he hadn't a care in the world. Kyoko knew that look: the young man was onto something. "This Leorza you mention...who is he?"

"Once a great leader of the Wise..."

"...very loyal, a hard worker..."

"...stood up for Echigo after he vanished..."

"...Vita's only child."

"That explains it, then," Daisuke replied; and when he opened his eyes they flashed like twin peridots in the last rays of sunlight. "Leorza founded Company Vita under the name Lorenzo Leonelli. Problem solved."

Kyoko and Monica turned to him in amazement as he addressed J. "Look up everything anyone's got on Lorenzo Leonelli's early childhood." As the robot processed his request, he explained to the girls, "He revealed himself to me earlier. I guess he thought I wouldn't make it out alive to report a dead man walking around. He's not the only one, either; I still don't know where Usagi came from."

"Hold on. One thing at a time, please." Kyoko tried to reel him in as the Celestials continued to murmur amongst themselves. "Clair's father faked his own death? Why?"

"The earliest records of Lorenzo Leonelli appear when he was twenty-eight years old," J reported. "No school or medical reports of any kind. Prior investigation of this information deficiency attribute it to hackers working for his company."

Daisuke answered Kyoko as if the android had never interrupted. "Who knows? He's city-hopping, it looks like. Stirring up trouble. I didn't want to bring him up until I was sure of the Celestial connection to begin with--it's that unclear."

"That's stupid," Monca objected.

"No, it's called playing it safe," Daisuke replied. "I don't do it often, so I understand your surprise."

"Not you!" She sniffed. "Leonelli! Now he can't get at his own money because everyone thinks he's dead! He wasn't even that old, either..."

"Leorza?" The Celestials sounded surprised. "Young? Leorza was a member of the original expedition team. The longevity of the new blood is with him, even if it is not strong."

"Expedition team?" Kyoko asked.

"The group of three ships that returned here, to our original homeworld, after centuries of interplanetary exploration and the discovery of the new blood," the Celestials responded. "Leorza is well over, by your human reckoning, six hundred years old."

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

_I'm not human._ The thought would not leave his head, no matter how hard he tried to shove it aside or bury it under mounds of silent ironic laughter. He had grown so used to blotting out the unsavory side of his life that the very persistence of this truth enraged and frightened him even more. _I'm half---one of them. And I was never Vampire, not for good. Papa was always planning on coming back. He didn't want me to succeed for my sake, but his. Papa doesn't care about me...Papa never loved me..._

He had long been aware of the fact; why should it especially plague him now? But no, that was a stupid question. A father thought dead for over a year, a father with whom he had finally believed himself reconciled posthumously, returned and demanded still more from him than he had to give. He had every right to fall apart. No one would blame him. Giovanni would look after him, like before. He could just go numb again...refuse to accept the world that refused to accept him on his own terms for living. He didn't think his criteria for existence were too ambitious—_make me stronger and good enough to trample all the idiots and trash on this earth. Make everyone respect and fear me. And, if at all possible, make it fun._

So far, life in general had failed him on all three counts. Had he thought himself master of Judoh after the Echigo Group transaction that had placed the Shop between his fingers? He was playing into another pair of hands, and they snatched away all his accomplishments and claimed them as their own, not his. With his father's return looming, even if far away, nothing he did could ever fully be his own.

Still feigning sleep but finding the charade infinitely more difficult, Clair shook on the tenement floor as the woman and her son finished talking. How could he bring them to his father now, promise or no, knowing his role as pawn in a much greater game? At least before he had believed that the man's harsh treatment of him stemmed from a desire to see him succeed--if not for his own sake then for some greater ideal's, known only hazily to his son as "the family". Well, "the family" was all a joke, wasn't it? "The family" meant "some day when I can return and take what you won for me at your own cost." Just a horrible joke with a pathetic punchline.

Nonetheless he needed to laugh; the urge was suffocating him, but he kept his lips clamped shut. He would not betray himself, would not reveal to them that he was awake. He did not want any more of the woman's pity; he hated the way he craved it, just as he now hated the voice telling him that the story didn't matter, that it didn't change his duty, that he still had to be a good son. Clair _knew_ he had to be a good son. But he felt trapped by the knowledge.

Adjusting his position on the floor in an effort to distract his mind and body, the cord holding the amulet around his neck abraded against his skin. Damn Celestial artifact—it had to be one, didn't it? Thinking back, he remembered seeing a similar bauble on the man he'd kidnapped during the near-crisis the previous year.

The memory only further cemented his father's awful true identity. He wished he could forget everything. Daisuke had been wrong about Celestials after all. He was being forced to live by them, or at least by one of them. He had been forced into existence to live in a fish tank—no, a maze—no, a cage, with bars and windows but no way out. He hated the world outside it, saw with the stranger's eye all that was wrong and hypocritical in the ways of men.

He hated the damn necklace. He hated it! If only his father hadn't been wearing it, he could have reasoned away the silly woman's words. Rage boiled within him; if he did not lash out at something, he would get burned. Forgetting in anger his need to pretend he was asleep, Clair flung his fist down on the jewel in the center with all his might, pounding until it broke and he cut his fist on the shards and the other people in the house looked at him and all he could watch were the lazy rivulets of his own blood, running out and pooling with some funny bluegreen stuff that had somehow spilled out of the jewel onto the floor...

But what was he doing? What was he thinking? That was all behind him, life was fine, life was good. He was happy...

No, no, he wasn't! As the others gathered around to gape and wonder at what he had done, Clair stared at the liquid in horror. He recognized the warm, secure feeling it gave him as the effects of the awful drug his father had forced on him. He recognized the hue of the liquid as belonging to a whole bottle of the stuff his father had kept on the table next to his wine. More, Papa had _more_ of the stuff, and he could trick him any time into having it again! He didn't want that, not if he would eventually wake up from the contented stupor. To live like that forever...maybe that wouldn't be so bad.

"What _is_ that?" Shun in his idiocy could only see colored water leaking from a broken stone. Clair clutched his injured fist to his chest like a child, shivering as Giovanni, startled awake by the pounding, tried to inspect the wound for him. "I don't need your help--" he started through chattering, giddy teeth.

"It's new blood," the woman replied, her tone betraying confusion as to why such a question would even be asked. "We all carry around a capsule to ease our minds."

So _that_ was why the Celestials were so deluded! The laughter burst free at last, and Clair gave it free rein, collapsing exhausted into Giovanni's concerned arms when the fit had passed. The woman shrank back from him in fear; Shun stared at him in obvious repugnance; even Boma seemed alarmed.

Only Giovanni, poor Giovanni, still cared about him. "Vampire, what is it? Do you need something? How can I help?"

"You can't help me, Giovanni," Clair replied, letting himself sag against the taller man's strong body anyway. Not even Giovanni would want to be around him, were he to discover the new emotion flooding his young master's susceptible, unpredictable system. But no, it was not new, merely undisguised. As Leorza's act had been yanked away from him, so too did Clair's gloss over his feelings for the man in his darkest, most torn moments disappear. _Go to hell, old man_...and the old man had. But he had returned to damn his son instead.

How could he say it? How could he admit to it, when even he himself recoiled from it?

Yet it played on in his head, a paean of independence that would never reach beyond his cage. He would not allow it to escape for fear of what it would do. Oh, he was a dangerous animal, all right. There was nothing more dangerous than betrayal, and here he was, a traitor of the blackest kind—against all that he knew he should care about. But the thought, spiteful demon that it was, still would not go away, just as the truth would not go away. Because it _was_ the truth, it had been the truth for a long, long time—not the whole truth, but always there, watching, waiting. Biding its time to come roiling to the surface, for when he would beat his bloody fists against the walls of his prison, beyond caring about the consequences of what would happen were he to dare acknowledge it.

Clair, closing his eyes, slept at last and dreamed only one sentence, repeating over and over in his head like a satanic mantra.

_I hate my father..._

o0o0o0o0o0o

Grendel's arms pinning Usagi's behind her back in a way that made her eyes tear in pain and her peaceful sleep elude her, Trinity uncorked the bottle of turquoise liquid and half-wished a bit would come spurting out like champagne. She certainly felt like celebrating, that much was certain.

The girl was such, _such_ a simpleton. All Trinity had had to do was knock on her door and ask to see her, and the fool had come guilelessly. Now they stood in Trinity's lab, Leorza having finally slumped with fatigue in his chair as the sun began to rise.

Sloppily she poured the girl a glass; a brief trickle ran down her hand—_and her father tossed the manual away before she'd had a chance to finish assembling the machine—_but she steeled herself against both the initial and sedative reactions. "Drink it," she told Usagi, passing over the cup as Grendel freed just the girl's right arm. "The whole thing."

Usagi sniffed it. "Master gives me this," she observed before bringing it to her lips.

Trinity laughed as the glass slowly emptied down the girl's throat. "That's right, darling," she agreed, weaving an arm around Usagi's slim shoulders and cuddling her close, coat open and revealing the bandaged knife wounds. "Because I'm your master now. Not Leorza. Me. You're mine."

The glass slipped from Usagi's fingers and shattered; the last few drops of liquid dribbled down her chin. Trinity cleaned her up with a handkerchief, chuckling the entire time.

The girl's eyes slid shut, and her knees buckled: no vicious bouts for her this time. The fight was waged in her mind, where the voices of those who'd sought to hurt her echoed like shouts in a tunnel—where only in moments like this could she remember the days before the beast masters with their colors and their sounds and their talk of a brother she had to find and kill, no matter what.

"_Aren't you a pretty little thing? Hey, you lost? Come with us, honey, and we'll show you the way you _really_ want to go."_

"_Hey, no running! Girl like you doesn't come into these joints except for one thing. So come here!"_

"_Get back here, bitch!"_

The voices jeered at her as always, but their taunts and gloats were cut short by the slicing of her knife against unsuspecting skin. It thrilled her, intoxicated her, to have caught those who thought they had mastery over her so unsuspecting; soon she had begun to prowl the streets, actively seeking those who deserved just such an awakening for the power their destruction pumped into her waiting veins.

"_Excuse me, sir? I can't find my way. Can you help me?"_

"_What, you some kind of retard? I don't care. I'll take 'em stupid---"_

_Slice. Two weeks later—hunting time again._

"_Excuse me, sir? You dropped this." Ouch! Cuffs around her wrists. Damn! _

"_Found you! Twelve would-be assailants in two months. My, but you have been a busy child. But don't worry. I have a use for you." A smile twisted by dark glasses and a pointed mustache._

Her only mistake had been to target a beast master. After that, it had been one long stretch of days of conditioning and modifications. They made her faster, they made her stronger, they gave her power she would have killed a thousand more thugs to possess.

Then they wiped her clean, locked that power off from the waking world, intending to use her when they needed her. But Leorza needed her first. And now...now...

She was blank again, and happy to be so. That other girl, the one high on the scent of others' blood, had no place in a happy world. She was insane, but the world was logical and clear. Why, in this world she knew things without even having to figure them out. How much more simple could it get? _I am your master now. Not Leorza. Me._ Of course! She would gladly agree! _You're mine._ Mind, body, soul, and past.

"Do you feel all right, Usagi?" The woman's voice warmed with concern.

"Yes, Master." Master wanted her to be all right, so she would be.

"Do you miss hunting?"

"No, Master." She was not aware of the hunt anymore. Was that good or bad? No, no, it did not matter. It simply was.

"Better sharpen your little weapons, anyway." Master smiled and lit a cigarette; Usagi breathed in the smoke happily, feeling like she was sharing in her Master's enjoyment even as it made her cough. "We're going after some very, very big prey. Of celestial proportions."

"Yes, Master."

"Good girl."

Usagi's heart warmed with joy.


	16. Job, Loyalty

**Episode 16: Job (Loyalty)**

The swing on the tree outside of his son's apartment had begun to creak—when? Mauro wondered, listening to his small granddaughter play. Just one more reminder that everything aged, everything changed. The world kept moving...even if some aspects of it seemed frozen in time.

He was running out of excuses as to why no one was allowed to see Vampire, and it worried him excessively. Even with the beetle's plan for when the errants returned and the police's support, in the time before Clair's actual return the family remained vulnerable. No Vampire, no Echigo—as soon as the other families realized that no one could punish them for overstepping their boundaries, those thinly-drawn lines on the scuffed pavement would vanish. Anarchy would again reign in Judoh, and Mauro, without the backing of his employer, would be powerless to stop it.

No, _he_ had to act as both Echigo and Vampire. That was the task his young master had laid before him, but he wasn't certain if he was capable of it. After all, he still had to go through the motions of his advisor duties—running the casino, checking the accounts—in addition to "reporting Vampire's wishes" after his "visits with the sick young man." Mauro himself wasn't a young man anymore; his employer had failed to consider that. His nerves could only take so much. So now, this quiet afternoon, he had fled to the security of his son's townhouse for one all-too-brief respite from running Judoh's underworld in secret.

Except he couldn't tear his mind from the casino and the office. The clock on Clair's empty desk was counting the same minutes and seconds he frittered away dozing in the sun, and he knew it. He couldn't enjoy himself, even though he told himself time and time again that his family was the most important thing in his life and he should count himself blessed to have this afternoon all to himself. Mauro could lie, and lie well, to almost anyone—the heads of the other families, the police, even Young Master if the need arose—but he could not lie to himself. This family, the family he had raised with his own hands and with his own weapon many years ago, was not the family he cared for the most.

His son knew it, he feared, and that cast another pallor over these brief moments in the light. Though he was the only child Mauro's late wife bore, there was another boy Mauro had raised who took precedence in all the old man's thoughts. Mauro justified the displacement on the grounds that this other boy got into many more scrapes and thus had to be looked after better, but the good son never wants to hear that the prodigal naturally _needs_ more love. As long as Mauro worked for the Leonellis, his own son would always be distant to him.

"Grandpa, Grandpa!" His granddaughter Jody came rushing over to the door, her blonde curls bouncing around a face flushed with excitement. "Push me, push me!"

"All right, Jody," Mauro agreed, standing slowly and wincing as something twinged in his back. Old before his time—he wasn't even sixty. Was it merely the strain of putting his life on the line every day at work that had aged him so? No, no, it went beyond that.

She settled herself into the swing, antsy in her excitement; he pulled back on the chains and then let go, sending her rocking back and forth as he pushed her farther and farther out each time she swung back to him. She laughed aloud, and his heart warmed to hear it; yet overlaid with his small granddaughter's peals of joy in his ears, he heard the echoes of a boy prone to fits of mirth during much more inopportune times.

His son sidled out the door, watched them idly; his hands nursed a steaming cup of coffee despite the day's warmth. "Careful, Jody," he warned as his little girl flew higher and higher. "Don't let go."

She laughed off his warning, mischievously freeing one hand to wave; but soon she too sensed the danger and clung onto both chains again. _"Just watch the way I do things, Mauro," _the other child said in his mind, watching her; closing his eyes, he tried to blot the connection out. This was somewhere he would not let that boy reach. Not his granddaughter. He would not have his chosen career influencing Jody's chance at a normal, happy life free from the fear of dealing with such men as he confronted every day.

Finally he stopped pushing her and she slowed to a stop, still thrilled. "Again?" she asked hopefully, but he headed back indoors.

"Maybe your father will push you now, Jody," Mauro replied, fetching his coat from where he'd laid it by his chair. His son watched him pull it on with suspicious eyes.

"I thought you were staying to dinner," he said as Mauro buttoned up the front.

"I remembered something," Mauro replied shamefully—he had not even forgotten. There was no point in staying if his mind was elsewhere. He would only hurt his son's feelings even more with his distant, fretting eyes.

Putting down his coffee cup, Mauro's son blocked his exit, arms crossed. "Father..." He tussled internally with the right words to use. "Just because one old man in this city dealt his son a bad hand doesn't mean _you_ have to..."

"That isn't why," Mauro replied. "You can't understand. I don't want you to understand. I don't want you mixed up in this..." His eyes wandered to the expectant child on the swings. "I'm not proud of..."

"Then why don't you leave?"

"Vampire needs me."

"More than Jody?" His son's tone gave the true meaning of the words away. "More than your own family?"

"Let me through, please." He tried to maneuver around his son, but the younger man was also taller and wider than he was. "I have so much to do..."

Cussing under his breath, his son let him go. As Mauro turned the latch on the gate leading out into the street, his son called behind him, "You know, Aurora snapped because his parents left him! What do you say to _that_?"

Mauro turned. "Only that I feel sorry for the poor man, but can't do anything. Give my regrets to everyone."

His son looked like he wanted to say more, but couldn't with his little daughter waiting. Jody nonetheless sensed something important but bad was going on, and watched Grandpa leave with wide, brown eyes. "Push me?" she asked weakly when he had gone, but her voice was more plaintive than eager.

Her father picked her up and held her tight. "Am I a good daddy, Jody?" he asked in her ear. "I'm a good parent, right?"

"You're the best, Daddy!" She hugged him back. "The best in the world!"

In his mind, he swore at the silhouette retreating down the street. Aloud he said, "Then I must be the only good one in all of Judoh."

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Kyoko slept in that night, the exhaustion of the day coupled with the rocking of the waves knocking her clean out until the sun had risen well into the sky. When she did emerge, it was to the less than dulcet sounds of a very, very annoyed Monica.

"WHY did he have to GO and run OFF when he's SUPPOSED to be doing all the THINKING here..."

"Oh no," Kyoko groaned, coming up on deck still in her pajamas. "Who's left now?"

The girl looked up from her rant to the ocean. "Oh, no one. I'm still mad at Shun." Noticing a pebble lodged in the tread of her shoe, she picked it free and flung it out into the water as far as she could. "If we'd been thinking, we'd have gotten Giovanni's cell phone number. That way we could call him and find out if they've found Clair yet."

Kyoko nodded: that did make sense. "We should have all traded numbers, not just us and them. That way someone could call Shun."

"Like he has his phone on!"

"Like Judoh phones would work in Magnagalia," Daisuke corrected, sidling up alongside the two girls. "Sure, if you've got the right provider, there are groups that give worldwide coverage just in case. I wouldn't be surprised if all Clair's stuff works, just because he can afford that kind of thing. But your average day-to-day phone...not likely. Plus we're stuck here anyway until the Celestials decide to leave." He grinned at Kyoko's disheveled ensemble. "Trying something new with your hair?"

"Oh! No, I just..." Her hands flew to the pink mess atop her head. "I was tired last night."

"Uh-huh. Hey, about last night..."

"The Celestials!" Kyoko interrupted, blushing; she did _not _want to talk about last night, especially with Monica listening. "Where are they?"

"Over with J in the cabin." Daisuke jerked his head. "Well, some are. Most are still in the bedrooms we put them in last night." In a way, Clair and his bodyguard's absences had worked in the rescue team's favor. The master bedroom, for a room aboard a boat, was quite accommodating. "They're a funny bunch."

"You don't say."

"Hey, do you think they would mind if I took some more pictures of them, Daisuke?" Kyoko marveled at the way the self-appointed leader of the rescue defected to the young man. What had he done to earn such respect from Monica?

"It's worth a shot. Have fun." She dashed off to get her camera; as soon as she descended below deck he smoothed a piece of Kyoko's hair into place, a crooked smile playing across his features. "Now. About last night."

"Daisuke...no." She looked down, ashamed of her behavior the previous evening. "Just because we haven't seen each other in a year doesn't mean we can behave like a couple of adolescents. We're both adults here. Let's...leave off the teasing, all right? It's not funny." She knocked his hand away from her gently, horribly aware of the bullet pendant hanging on her neck. "I didn't come because...I came because I couldn't stand not knowing if you were all right. Not because I couldn't stand not having you around. And I just...I want you to know that." Oh, she was botching this, she could tell. But it had to be said.

"Well, I'm all right," Daisuke assured her. "The only problem is, now what?"

She turned to stare out at the waves like Monica had—_like Shun had enjoyed doing,_ she thought, then started; she thought of him in the past tense? As in she truly didn't believe he was coming back? "You said it yourself: we wait. Both for Giovanni to return and for the Celestials to feel safe again. We really should be honored to have them around. I just hope we have enough food to feed them all."

"Wait for _Giovanni_? Not Bro and Clair and Boma?"

She should have known he would have the intelligence to read between the lines of her words and the carelessness to voice their meaning. "Something is going on here. We know that. You were taken captive, the previous Vampire faked his death, and now Clair himself has been kidnapped? You've broken cases wide open with less evidence. Therefore, there's a very good chance those involved won't be returning. I include Shun and Boma because—well, Boma's even more wanted here and Shun...We don't know what it all means, but that doesn't really matter. It's none of our business."

"You're right," Daisuke agreed, then turned. "I'm gonna go talk to J about some stuff. Later, Kyoko." Waving a casual hand in goodbye, he wandered off to the captain's room.

Now alone, Kyoko leaned forward, propped her elbows on the railing and rested her chin in her hands. She had lied to him, and he had lied back. She wasn't sure if, had the situation been slightly different, Lorenzo Leonelli's schemes in Magnagalia would have mattered to her, but since Clair had become embroiled they now directly affected the future of Judoh, and thus were the Special Unit's responsibility. Daisuke smelled a mystery as well, she felt sure; and he never turned one down. No, he would be investigating in whatever capacity he as an escapee from—whatever; she still wasn't certain who had held him hostage—could.

When he came back on deck, she predicted, he would have a theory as to what exactly was happening in the city at large, and he would probably be right. Then off he would go to keep the peace, and she would scold him both before and afterwards for being so reckless. That was the way their relationship worked; that was how their lives functioned. She was the worrier, the fretter, the practical anchor for the errant knight defending the peace. She felt obligated to give disapproval to all his wild crusading.

Certain no one was watching, she touched the silver bullet against her lips. Secretly, though, she wouldn't have wanted him any other way.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0

So this was how Mauro had felt, or might have felt, upon receiving Clair's runaway disc. This was how that stressed-out detective the kid was living with had reacted, or might have reacted, when he found the good-bye letter. He wanted to shoot something. Or someone.

_Giovanni,_

_Decided against taking you all to Papa and left to go myself. I'll find him somehow. More likely, he'll find me. I have a lot to ask him and you'd all get in the way. Plus I don't trust his motives for wanting you all around. You know what to do. Anything Papa can do, we can too._

_Don't worry about me. I've waited twenty years for this and I think I'm ready. Enclosed is a present from Mitchal and me. If Papa finds you...well, you'll need them more than me._

_p.s. Next time you're alone in a strange city sleeping in a slum, don't sleep in so late. You're going to get yourself killed. That would just be stupid, and I don't tolerate stupidity._

"Damn you," Giovanni growled, crumpling up the flyer on which Clair had written and wishing he really did have something to shoot—or maybe something to drink, though he wasn't by nature a drinking man. "Just because Aurora thinks he's good enough to strike out on his own--"

"I heard my name." Shun sat up. "What sort of accu--"

"Vampire is gone," Boma said simply. "He left two hours ago, just after dawn."

Giovanni stared in outrage. "Y-you knew? You let him go?" Leaping to his feet, he grabbed the werewolf by his vest collar and shook him, to no effect. "Why'd you let him—where'd he go? Which direction?"

"He does not want anyone to follow him now," Boma replied. "I acquiesce to his request."

"Well, _I _don't! We're all getting up and you're showing me which way he went!" Nothing covered his mouth or nose, but he felt like he was suffocating. Like something was stifling him, slowly, from within. And it hurt.

Nona, rolling over as she woke, frowned and dug two tiny objects out of the small of her back. "What are--" she began, sitting up.

"Don't _touch_ those!" Giovanni snatched the pair of purple dice from her violently, knocking her back onto the ground but not really caring. "You can't understand! None of you people can!"

"That is why he left without you," Boma said. "You would not understand how he feels."

This was the second time Giovanni's employer had tried to leave without telling him first. Did Clair really trust him that little? Did everything they'd been through together really count for nothing? Over ten years of service and caring, then just a casual note and "you know what to do"? Do with what?

"Is this yours too?" Nona held up a small piece of plastic and metal. "It was next to the purple things."

He grabbed it from her, turned it over in his hands. Yes...they'd packed those, hadn't they? Just in case they decided to split up...and they should still work...he _did_ know what to do, now. Pushing the bud into his right ear, it slid invisibly into place. Company Vita had only the best in surveillance technology.

Sticking a finger into his ear, Giovanni flicked the transmitter on. "_Damn_ you," he said aloud to the air.

A staticy laugh floated back to him; he sagged with relief. "I was wondering when you'd wake up," the young don of the Leonelli family half-scolded his bodyguard. "Did you get my other gift, too?"

"I am going to _kill_ you," Giovanni breathed slowly, distance letting him vent his anger. "And Mitchal would too."

"Nah, he'd just laugh. Ian, though, would have a heart attack. That's why I kept the ring." Clair sobered. "Now listen. I'm still out looking for the apartment he took me to, but I'm guessing his flunky will find me first. When I get there, I'll still have this thing on. I'm going to ask him what he's planning on doing, and I want you to record it somehow. Paper, memory, microphone recorder, whatever. Then...I'll get back to you when I can. We'll meet at the boat."

"Clair, what are you planning on doing?"

"Call me Vampire. The old one's dead." The boy was in a good mood for some reason, spoke mockingly.

"_Clair_," Giovanni repeated firmly, not sharing his young master's enjoyment. "What is going on?"

A pause; what might have been a sigh. "Ask the Celestial," Clair said finally. "Ask her about Papa. I heard a lot last night, and when I woke up I knew what I had to do. So I left."

"Oh, that helps _so_ much..."

"Don't be fresh with me!" the young man snapped. "I...I know what I'm doing, all right? So just do as you're told and shut up!"

So he was upset about something after all. Giovanni had a healthy respect, if not regard, for the layers of emotions in which the young don clothed himself protectively. "Vampire..." he started, but could think of no way to finish the sentence.

"I hate him," the voice on the other end mumbled, so faintly that Giovanni wondered at first if he had heard it. "I hate him and I'm going to kill him. But I want to know what he was planning first. Are you happy now?"

No. He wasn't. But he couldn't say anything, either. He could only, as the young man fell silent and those around him eyed him curiously, scratch his head and, wordlessly, start trying to get back to the harbor. Walking out of the tenement with his head high and Mitchal's lucky dice clutched tightly in a sweaty palm—dice the flippant man had given to Vampire just before dying horribly—Giovanni could only wish to God or whatever else might be looking that everything would turn out all right for the boy.

He could wish. But, despite how badly he wanted to, how badly he wanted everything to turn out well, he could not hope.

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0

What had started as a lovely day quickly dwindled in beauty; around ten o'clock, the clouds moved in, and by noon the skies opened and unleashed their furies once again. Aboard the Vita yacht, the Celestials gathered in the cabins below deck and waited out the bad weather in silence; Kyoko, Daisuke, Monica, and J all congregated in Kyoko's cabin to give their guests some room.

The thunder boomed outside, and Monica hugged Kyoko's pillow to her knees in terror, then caught herself. Not again. Not with everyone watching. She had to beat this thing, or live in shame forever.

"Oh well," she said aloud, voice loud to her own ears. "It's not like we can sink while we're docked—can we?"

"It is unlikely we would sink to begin with," J replied. "However, capsizing is never out of the realm of possibility. There is also a chance that the boat will hit the bulkhead with such force that the side will splinter and--"

"J?" Daisuke asked, glancing at Monica warily.

"Yes, Daisuke?"

"Here's a new one for you. If he's making a little girl cry, a man should shut the hell up."

"I apologize, Monica."

"I'm fine," she protested. "I'm not crying." Giovanni was out in that alone, she thought. Well, not really alone—but Boma and Shun weren't exactly good company, assuming Shun was even with them to begin with. The only way Giovanni would be with anyone, she figured, was if they'd found Clair already. And even then, he wasn't the most cheerful person in the world either.

She wondered if, when he'd been a kid, Clair had been scared and Giovanni had helped him too. Monica hoped that was the case. Then she could hope. After all, if even Vampire could have silly little scared spells but manage to become the leader of Judoh's organized crime, she herself could still grow up tough. Monica was determined to grow up tough. It was the only way, as far as she could tell, that anyone made it in the world. If you were an idealist, you got suckered and everybody laughed at you and left you poor.

A tremendous rumble outside rippled down her spine and she shut her eyes to block out the stares she felt certain the others would direct her way. She wanted Giovanni to be there, to talk with her. She wanted him to tell her stories about when he was little and growing up even poorer than she was. He hadn't had much fun then, but when he had—stories of tricking drunks and outsmarting the law had made her sides ache with laughter.

She couldn't find anything to laugh at now. She was ashamed of herself for becoming so quickly dependent on another's help, and for not looking to see if anyone was really staring at her. She squeezed one eye open to survey.

Kyoko knelt beside her on the bed. "Hey, Monica..." The girl turned her head away. "If we go in the city again, do you want to come?"

"We're not going anywhere," Monica said, her voice small and distant. "We're staying here and waiting. I'm not losing more people."

"Oh, Monica..." The young woman tried unsuccessfully to embrace the small girl. "No one's lost."

"We lost Clair. We lost Shun. For all we know, we've lost the others too." She sniffled as the thunder crashed again. "We just got D-Daisuke back and I don't want to..."

"Hey, hey." Daisuke sat down on the foot of the bed, leaned back and smiled at her; scandalized, Monica pulled on her skirt to be certain he couldn't see anything from where he lay. "No one's going anywhere yet."

"You said _yet_," she accused; he shrugged.

"Who knows what tomorrow brings...I may look into finding somewhere else for the Celestials, because let's face it: Leonelli's out to kill me, and where better to look than in his company's yacht?"

"Leonelli's what?" Kyoko cried. "Daisuke!"

"What, I didn't tell you?" He closed one eye lazily. "Yeah, the girl who attacked the crazy lab coat woman? She works for him. Calls him 'Master' and everything. Nice kid, when she isn't asleep."

Monica put the pillow down—squarely on Daisuke's face, with enough force that it startled a muffled yell out of him. "Tell us everything, now!" she ordered, sensing a welcome distraction at last. She wasn't planning on getting involved. She just wanted something other than thunder to listen to.

Fortunately, the story provided just such a diversion. And at the end, she was beginning to have second thoughts about further intervention into Magnagalian affairs . Before, it had sounded only like a mildly bad idea, due mainly to the fact that not only was it not their city, the police were also likely still searching for them.

Now, at least in her mind, getting further involved was out of the question. But she didn't think Daisuke saw it that way. Looked like she had some major explaining to do. Assuming he would listen, which was doubtful. Adults! They could be such a pain sometimes...

"You know it's out of our hands, right?" she asked. "That as soon as we get Clair back, we're kicking the Celestials off and getting out?"

It was Kyoko's turn to be appalled. "Monica, we can't! Not _Celestials!_"

"Why not?" Monica asked. "If Celestials like Clair's dad can order Daisuke's death and muck around with the syndicate, why can't we boot our load of them out?"

"You just can't," Kyoko protested, but Monica ignored her, mind made up. Celestials had lost their otherworldly appeal in her eye. It was as she had suspected: they were people too, plotting selfish creatures with agendas of their own. As such, they were on level ground with her and she could do with them as she chose. She was the leader, after all. These were the decisions that leaders made.

Right?

O0o0o0o0o0o0o0

The arena underneath the Barony was jam-packed as usual, but not with the usual motley gamblers and crooks. Crisply-suited officials and shareholders of the syndicate listened with mounting consternation and intrigue as their self-appointed Baroness, standing tall behind a podium in the center of the ring, spoke. Kneeling behind her were a tall, burly dark-skinned man and a slim, pale girl. No one dared to laugh at her eclectic choice of companions, or at the words she spoke. Both were too horrifying.

"--they cannot be trusted," Trinity declared, unfastening the top button of her lab coat. Professionalism wrestled in her mind with theatrics, and the latter won. Her hands strayed down to the second button. "And why should we trust them, when they have held us in captivity for nearly five hundred years? Why did our ancestors, torn and broken by years of war, war which _should never have come about _ in a unified world-state, listen to these people? Because the Celestials were not from Earth, because they offered hope, because they offered technology we did not possess.

"Always are we curious about the new, the different, because we think it might be better, for we as a race live in perpetual discontent. I don't condemn this impulse, but only that it was not carried out more fully—_our ancestors did not find a way to take this new technology for themselves_." Last button; she held her coat closed, waiting. "Yet I, in my dealings this past year with one of them who sought to live among us, to manipulate us, have gone where those brave men could not. I have their technology." She held aloft a turquoise bottle, then set it down to confused and frustrated murmurs from the crowd. "And what's more, I have proof that those we herald as our 'saviors' are _not_ benevolent, _not_ selfless, _not_ everything that set them apart as worthy of our respect! For would a benevolent creature do _this??_"

She ripped open her coat to reveal the now-unbandaged wounds underneath, black lace lingerie and red scratches standing out starkly as the lights of the stadium bleached her already-pale skin. The men in the audience gasped, then sat up straighter in their chairs. The view at this symposium had suddenly gotten a lot more interesting.

She saw them staring and smiled like a predator, then closed her coat again. No point in distracting them from the point of her speech. One little look was more than enough. "I was brutally attacked on their very ship by an assassin sent by one of them whom I trusted, who I let into my strictest confidences and to whom I trusted the fate of our fair city. Yes, I speak of the man who has been at my side for a year, the man you all know as Leorza." Another shocked ripple, but with far less active interest. "His minion did this to me. His secrets, unveiled by me, expose the Celestials for the frauds that they are. And therefore I say—we do not need them! Why should we let ourselves be trapped any longer? We cannot trust the good, trusting, law-abiding citizens of Magnagalia to take a stand; we need to stand ourselves! We alone have the power, more even than the police!

"Let any man deny it who will: _we_ are the only true power here. Or we would be, were it not for the Celestials, these false friends who can't even take time out of their schedules to visit the prison cells more than once every eighteen years. Even our fine, upstanding, yet oh-so-impressionable police have more compassion." She raised the bottle high. "They are few, and we are many! They have no weapons except the fear of being cut off from our high-end systems! Well, the fuel for those systems is _here!_ All that is needed to recharge them is one who is strong with the fuel himself. Or herself. Usagi, come here."

"Yes, Master."

Trinity thrust the bottle in the girl's hands. "Drink it. All of it."

"Yes, Master." Throwing her head back, she did as she was commanded; her body convulsed, then relaxed. Putting the bottle down, she smiled. "Is that good?"

Trinity pointed. "I give you—a Celestial of our own! You know her as Wolf's Prize, the top winner in the arena here! But soon the city will know her as their salvation! So—_down with the tyrants! Down with the despots! Down with the Celestials! _Kill them all, and seize the key to the fuel, the technology, for ourselves! Wolf's Prize and I shall lead you all to a new world, a world the way this planet was meant to be—a world by humans, for humans! Kill them all, and anyone seeking to hide them!" Finishing, she drew a deep breath. "This is the task I wish to lay upon all of you. Not only as your Baroness, but as a fellow human. Will we let this heartless regime continue?"

The crowd roared its discontent. She smiled again. "Then get to it!"

They stood, sensing she was truly done her rant at last, and filed out. Trinity watched as they left with interest. No, she hadn't convinced all of them; that was only to be expected. It didn't matter if they agreed with her or not; she herself bore Celestials as a species no ill will, and had made a few potentially deadly guesses as to the true importance of the blue-green fluid. But if there were no Celestials, there would be no Leorza, there would be no Leorza plotting only God knew what. There would be no Leorza daring to harm her or get in her way. She had underestimated him, dared to trust him, dared to...but she did not even dare admit what she dared! For making her dare that...that other thing, he would have to suffer.

Smiling, she led the wide-eyed and reborn Usagi out of the arena. _Thanks for playing, Leorza. I simply love chess. But I just took your queen._ No, no, wait. There was another...yes, purging the Celestials would take care of _her_ too, wouldn't it? Really, it was a wonder she hadn't thought of this sooner...

Almost halfheartedly she fished her cell phone out of her pocket; her earbud had fallen behind her bed during the tantrum she'd thrown upon returning from Leorza's, and she'd been too preoccupied to retrieve it. "Hello? Baroness here. I hate to tack on petty details, but get the names of the females before you wipe them out. And if one's named Nona, I want her alive."


	17. Return, Sacrifice

**Episode 17: Return (Sacrifice)**

"Where were you?" Leorza asked Usagi sharply as, feet dragging, the girl entered the apartment and closed the door behind her, humming softly to herself. "Did Trinity go home?"

"I followed her back," she replied, "and made sure she was not doing anything you would not want her to, Master. Then I began to return to your side, but I found you a present instead."

"And what might that be?" The girl was acting very strangely; normally she would have waited for instructions before attempting such a stunt. Instantly he was on his guard, though he carefully concealed his uneasiness. "This present of yours?"

She reopened the door and a young, dark-haired man walked in, a guarded smile teasing his lips and a hand shoved into his pocket. "I'm back, Papa. Miss me?"

The boy should have known better than to use such a tone with him. Something was definitely wrong...and where was his amulet? Usagi had earlier reported that his son had stolen his amulet from her. Yet he did not have it on. The muscles in Leorza's face stiffened.

"Where are your companions?" he asked, mindful of appearances and the task he had laid to his son despite his apprehension. "My beloved son, I gave you a specific task. Did you fail to follow through?"

Clair shrugged and shut the door. "I couldn't get them to come. They all hate me anyway. What's it matter? Vampire can't waste his time worrying about little things."

"My beloved son, nothing is too little for Vampire to notice. Often the enemy only gives the tiniest of hints as to their intentions, and you must be prepared to spot such things."

"That's what advisors are for." Clair sat down; Usagi backed into the bathroom again, but Leorza waved her back out. For some inexplicable reason, he wanted her around to keep an eye on his son. Assuming, of course, that whatever his instincts sensed to be amiss wasn't centered around her as well...

"Then why, my beloved son, have you returned if your task is unfulfilled?"

Clair looked away, dark lashes hiding his violet eyes from view. "I'm confused, Papa," he said in a weak voice. "I don't understand. Why did you leave me? I..." On his knees, his hands curled into fists. "You were right. I wasn't ready. I'm a failure. Why did you leave when I wasn't ready?"

Leorza sighed. He should have seen this coming. Now he had a decision to make he'd earlier hoped to avoid, caught as it were in his own cleverness. Given what he knew of his son's temperament, the boy would likely react poorly to hearing his father's true plans, plans he had never divulged in full to anyone before save Echigo only. Yet on the other hand...what other choice did he have? To lie? No other explanations for his behavior he invented seemed sufficient. And certainly he could not kill the boy; that would ruin everything.

Even caution had not been enough, then. He would have to take another leap of faith and do something to which he'd never committed before: he would have to trust his unworthy son.

"Very well," he replied, and with the words he felt his entire body buckle and fade. "Listen carefully, my beloved son. I shall not repeat myself later..."

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

"Daisuke!!"

The blonde woman ran ahead of the group, tired feet forgotten as she rushed to her youngest son's arms. For his part, the young man aboard the yacht blinked in surprise; then his face broke into a wide smile and he too hurried forth to her embrace. On board the yacht, Kyoko and J watched, smiling; Monica raised her camera to her eye and snapped a picture as their bodies met. Clustered at the bow, the Celestials also watched with interest.

Boma leapt onto the boat, startling the white-robed passengers. Those left standing on solid ground observed the reunion with bittersweet expressions upon their faces. Shun managed a smile, but his wistful, almost jealous eyes lent the gesture a perhaps unfair falseness. Giovanni's mind was plainly elsewhere, wandering along distant frantic clouds...then, suddenly, jolted back to the moment.

"I'm going in," the voice in his ear murmured. "Get ready."

"Giovanni, what are you waiting for?" Monica called as Shun climbed onto the yacht, carefully avoiding the gazes of both his family and the other Celestials. "Come on!"

"Not now, little lady," he replied, hand pressed against his budded ear to amplify the volume. "Vampire's made it."

"What is he talking about?" Kyoko asked Boma, though Shun was closer to her; the slight did not go unnoticed, but he made no reply and instead retired silently to his cabin, saying nothing to even Daisuke. Briefly, the werewolf explained.

Daisuke raised an eyebrow. "Fill me in later. Bro!" He dashed off after Shun, Nona following both of her sons in bemused confusion.

"Give me the apparatus," J told Giovanni as the man clambered onto the vessel, still listening intently. He looked up at the machine blankly, so the android explained. "If I put it into my ear, I can project what is happening on the other side, and make a recording if need be."

Giovanni considered the offer, then yanked the small device out. "All yours, old man. I'll take you up on the recording too."

"Very well." Accepting the earbud, J inserted it into his own ear. After a few clicks and whirrs, his mouth opened and he began to speak, but the voice was not his own.

"_...when I wasn't ready?"_ Clair's broken voice asked plaintively.

Monica smiled in approval. "That's really cool!"

"Hush," Kyoko told her, a finger to her lips and her eyes on Giovanni. "This is important." The Celestials, too, came closer and gathered around the android to hear better.

"_Listen carefully, my beloved son,"_ said another speaker. _"I shall not repeat myself later. We Celestials are not, as the humans think, an entirely different race. Rather, we began as humans like yourselves, but we are humans who have been forever altered. For we have become transformed by a substance we know only as 'new blood...'"_

o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Clair let the words slide over his mind, the bud weighing heavily in his right ear. He almost wished he hadn't asked Giovanni to make a recording of his father's words. Although he doubted that he would ever forget them, he never wanted to hear them again.

"I am a member of the third generation of a team of explorers from the human planet who launched an expedition to search for habitable other worlds, the original world having been ravaged by the rages of a war which ended in the creation of a great Overstate governing the entire globe. The admittedly radical political shift was regarded as a step towards world peace at last, and as the population had dwindled significantly due to wartime casualties and purges the human race was deemed governable once and for all. But the planet itself, due to projected expenditures of resources and pollution, was running out of time. So the explorers were sent to a distant system to examine and perhaps colonize another world, even if the journey would be far too long for a single generation to make. On their immense transport, the current astronauts grew their own food and raised their successors with care, those who would at last set foot on alien soil. My mother was one of the youngest, being only twenty-five when the habitable planet at last was reached. Her name was Vita."

No, no, he didn't want to hear this. He didn't care about his family history; he wanted that final push, some hateful outrageous confession that would give him the incentive at last to draw his gun and pull the trigger. His father had lied to him every day of his life, had pretended up till the very "last" breath. And he hated pretenders more than any other scum that walked the earth.

The man known to him as Lorenzo Leonelli had to die today, die for his crimes as was his due. And who better to kill him than the son who had suffered the most...but who also the least prepared to strike the blow? Clair reminded himself he wasn't frightened, that he hated his father, that he had wanted this day to come without knowing it. He forced himself to remember the coffin lowered into the ground, the cold hands that had in reality belonged to a manikin machine, the shining gold plate marked only "Vampire" and littered with flowers as the first few clods of dirt were tossed into the grave. These were the reasons, the proof that the man _had _to die. _"My beloved son, eliminate your enemies with cleverness but without mercy."_ See, even his father himself agreed...

"The expedition explored their new surroundings with marked interest for many long hours, ecstatic to have at last arrived at the destination for which their parents had prepared them. Finally, tired from their first experiences with real earth and sunlight, three members of the party decided to cool off by bathing in one of the many pools littering the landscape, mistaking the liquid within for water after quick preliminary tests. But when they emerged, they had been changed. They saw the world through infantile eyes, though their mental capacities had increased tremendously; they could connect to nature and the animals around them, but interpersonal relationships were beyond their ken. Of the three, only Wise could remember his past, but even to him it did not seem so important. For the first time in their cooped-up, pigeonholed lives, they had found true happiness."

What did Celestial history matter, that far back? Clair fidgeted in his chair, antsy with mounting anger and stifled fear. Hate surged through him again, hate at the man for making him wait as he had waited all his life—for nothing, it had turned out. The title of Vampire held no inherent meaning or transformative power; it did not bestow godhood like he had imagined. And even what little glory he could attain, in light of what the woman had said, would only pave the way for the man's return. Not even his own accomplishments could he claim. He owned nothing, had nothing, was nothing, but had spent all of his life wanting to _be_ so vividly that some days it hurt. He wanted the world to know he existed, that he held power over them—but he did not, he could not, hidden in his father's shadow. He had sought to explode from beneath that stifling darkness in the immediate aftermath of his father's supposed death, and had nearly self-destructed instead. No, he would destroy the darkness and not merely escape it this time. He would not make the same mistakes again. Hate had always empowered Clair more than any other emotion, helped him find the strength to act by trampling and scorching his self-doubt. So he relied on his hate to keep him listening, seeking fuel, waiting for the moment to channel the heat and in a brilliant flash conflagrate his one and only true enemy.

"It was the temptation of the enhanced intelligence, I believe, that led most of the others to bathe in what became known as 'new blood', each believing that they could somehow control the rest of the transfiguration. They met with mixed success, but all eventually succumbed to the allurement of the blissful, optimistic, unchanging lives of their new-blooded brethren—for those who had bathed or drank enough of the new blood did not fall ill or age as quickly—and so humanity's first truly utopian community was formed, light-years from their true home.

"My mother, though, could never quite forget the plight under which the rest of the world supposedly suffered, and this troubled her. Finally she succeeded in convincing a group of her fellows—for there were many of us by then, the community having flourished and multiplied—that we had a sacred, solemn duty to bring our new knowledge and blood back to the poor, helpless creatures slowly destroying themselves with their passions on the world she had never seen.

"For the most marvelous thing about the new blood was that, in severing the connection between individuals, no one could feel hate or inflict emotional hurt. Friendships existed if personalities were compatible, especially among those with whom the new blood was weak, and loyalty ran strong, but no pure 'human' emotions remained. Any thought of distressing subjects and situations was immediately dismissed. The idea of war was altogether foreign, as was the concept of pain. Only a memory, coupled with fear, remained.

That memory was enough, however, to propel the easily swayed hearts of our people to action. The new blood by then had been experimented on by those whose curiosity was strongest, the Rahman, and proven to be not merely a liquid but a rapidly expanding organism of its own, which fused to cells should they be exposed long enough—hence the physical and mental effects. Since it expanded on its own, were we to use it sparingly as a fuel we could still have enough left over upon returning to our original home to use in a variety of ways. A life-changer, a sedative, a nearly inexhaustible battery fluid: the possibilities were endless.

"Thus armed, we set off in three ships, representatives of the three groups into which we had naturally become divided according to the new blood's effects on us mixing and mingling on each. And we arrived at our destination much more quickly than had our ancestors, superior intelligence and technology propelling us at speeds unheard-of by the common man.

"Paradise on earth had indeed crumbled into hell; the Overstate had collapsed onto itself. The rest of the general history you know—how we arrived five hundred years ago, how we reorganized what was left of the human race into eight great cities, and how one rebelled. My mother tried to convince them to stop fighting, to end all their meaningless strife. They ended hers instead by dropping a bomb on the building in which she was staying. So the other Celestials, unable to comprehend what they were truly doing, killed the entire city.

"That was when I understood, my beloved son. Those of the new blood and those of the old, fiery blood could never mix and mingle in harmony. I was, in a way, living proof: the new blood is weak in me. I feel in ways they cannot feel, I think in ways they cannot think, and I...I love in ways they cannot love."

Lies. Papa couldn't love. Maybe it was all lies, like every other time they'd spoken. Maybe he should just end the lies now. Clair slid a hand into his pocket and began stroking the barrel of the gun concealed within anxiously. He'd loaded it, hadn't he? He was prepared. And the girl who'd found him, the fanged rabbit, she would be too thunderstruck to do anything. Two bullets for Papa, two bullets for Bunny...two bullets left for whatever came next; he couldn't think that far ahead.

"My old friend Echigo had already disappeared into the human world; I resolved to do so as well. Before leaving, I asked another to come with me. She refused without even hearing my entire plan, being Celestial and thus unwilling to hear anything remotely resembling troublesome. More's the pity."

"But what was...your plan, Papa?" He fought to keep his voice from cracking. Go on, old man. Spill it all, so I can spill in return. Or are you going to stall until I burst? Is that how you're going to get rid of me? No, Papa. I won't go down so easily.

"Patience, my beloved son. Clair...I cannot expect you to understand, being human. But at least try. I sought to gain influence in all seven remaining cities, so that sections of each would rise and aid me in using the new blood on all of humanity. I had to choose between mankind and the Celestials they had the potential to become, and I chose the more heavenly. Because until not a single person on this planet can comprehend the true power negative emotions produce, until no one can connect with another sentient being, war and corruption will always spread. Happiness cannot exist in human hearts. They are polluted from the start."

"Why should you care?" It was coming, it was building, he was ready. "Why don't you just drink the stuff until you can't feel sorry for us anymore?" You already can't care for me; would it be so hard to not hate me, too? If you hate hate...oh, you hypocrite. You're crazy! Why didn't I see that before? You're crazy. And we're all crazy for following you, Papa. I must be crazy...that's funny. That's really funny...no, no! I can't lose focus now!

"Because the human part of me will not allow it, Clair." How dare he, after twenty years, only resort to addressing his own son directly _now_! "The connection I still feel to the people of this world will not allow itself to be severed until at last I am certain no one else can feel the sadness I have, watching you humans burn yourselves out."

"I'll end your sadness for you, Papa," Clair gasped, unable to take it any longer, and , standing, pulled his gun and pointed it at the old man's head. Grinning and shaking, he stared down the barrel at those still-calm eyes and heaved a strangled, angry sob. "Y-you think that because you claim to _care_ you can make what you did to me go away? If you l-love humanity, why couldn't you at least treat me like a person?"

"My beloved son, there are sacrifices I decided..."

"I _hate_ sacrifices!" Clair screamed, firing; the shot went awry. Usagi wordlessly watched the bullet stick into the ceiling. "I won't be yours! Not any more! I'm Vampire now, and I—I--"

"Then kill me." Leorza rose, spread his arms. "If that is your decision, my beloved son...kill me. Kill me now, before my mad idealism spreads. Leave Magnagalia without her last hope of negotiating between the syndicate and the Celestials. It's not your city. If all that matters is your own foolish heart, kill me."

"That can't move me, old man," Clair panted, his vision beginning to blur. "Vampire only thinks of himself and what's best for the company. And having the founder return from the dead would be very, very bad...hard to explain...so for the family...I won't shame the family...I have to...I have to...because I hate—I hate--"

"Then kill. Use your privilege as a human. Kill what you hate."

Clair fired.


	18. Acceleration, Traitor

**Episode 18: Acceleration (Traitor)**

"Bro!"

Shun turned at the entrance to his cabin and acknowledged his little brother with a nod. "Daisuke."

The younger man ran up to the older. "Thanks for coming after me."

Shun snorted. "Hardly. 'Coming after you' entails making it onto the Celestial ship. Which, as I'm sure you noticed, I failed in doing."

"Don't worry about--"

"Daisuke, Shun!"

"Not now, Mother," Shun insisted irritably, turning the doorknob and retreating into his cabin. The woman had left him for almost two decades and _now_ she wanted to talk? Now, when he was having enough trouble dealing with his brother? Daisuke certainly, as anticipated, didn't seem to hold Shun's cowardice against him. But that didn't keep Shun from blaming himself anyway. If he'd stayed on the original rescue team, he would have really proven how much he cared for his brother. If he'd stayed and saved Daisuke, he would not be dealing with his mother at all. Very likely, they'd all be headed back to Judoh, Clair having no reason to return to his father if he had not overheard that late-night conversation. No, he had made the wrong decision, and he was paying bitterly for it. As always. Forgiveness? Mercy? Hah! The world didn't work that way.

"No, Shun." She grabbed the door and yanked it open, revealing his surprised face. "I want to talk to my sons. _Both_ of my sons. I never thought I would see you again and now...you can't just ignore me!"

The cries of an indignant child. He didn't have time for this. His prior actions against Echigo and their results had proved to him that killing the woman would solve none of his problems, but for a moment he envied Clair's resolve, far away, ready to commit parricide for the sake of his own vindication.

"Bro..." Daisuke joined his mother at the door. "You promised. You said you'd try. Here's your chance."

"Why should I give others the grace they won't give me?" Shun asked coldly, trying unsuccessfully to close the door despite the nagging word _coward_ again dancing in the back of his mind. "You weren't there either, Daisuke. You haven't seen how I've been treated."

"Treated?" Nona looked from Daisuke to Shun, troubled. "I don't understand."

Daisuke, sighing, put an arm around his mother's shoulders with a wry grin. "I guess we all have a lot of catching up to do, eh? Move over, Bro. Here's as good a place as any."

"Daisuke, no," Shun protested, but his little brother pushed past him regardless, half-dragging their mother with him. "This is not the time."

"No time like the present." Daisuke flopped down on the bed, stared at his mother and broke out in an even wider smile. "I still don't really believe this..."

"Neither do I," Shun muttered to himself, closing the door. Turning to face them, he forced the City Safety Management Agency Special Unit General Manager back into place, all smoothness and practicality. "Let me do the talking, Daisuke."

"Whatever, Bro."

So Shun, stomping his personal emotions about the last nineteen years to the pit of his stomach where they belonged, started his report.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o

No. This was not happy. This was not perfect. Usagi did not know what to do in a situation like this. Master had not anticipated this...but that was impossible! Master knew everything.

She had been told she needed to return to Leorza's side so he would not know she had switched Masters yet, and upon finding the man's son wandering around had discovered her perfect alibi for being absent. Indeed, she had been rather proud of her little 'present' despite not particularly caring for its recipient any more. But this...oh, no. This was horrible. This was awful.

Usagi turned around and placed her hands over her ears, seeking a connection with anything but her fellow humans. The new blood surged through her system, warmed her, reminded her that the old life of pain had ended and a new one of joy had begun. But the world, apparently, had other plans.

She wanted to sleep, but dared not. She feared the shadows that came when her eyes closed. So she pretended they did not exist. Nothing existed but her, and Master, and what Master wanted. To be a good girl, she had to stay despite the evil in the room with her. For it had to be evil. Anything she did not like simply _had_ to be evil.

Behind her, the young man gave a sob; she refused to turn around and see him again. He was evil. There was no room in her life for evil.

A knife was in her hands before she knew it, and she clutched it tight, feeling her strength return. Yes, yes...if it continued, she could just as easily make the evil go away.

o0o0o0o0o0o0

Well, _this_ certainly all was very sudden. What had happened to the group who had gone to look for Clair, that they had returned with Daisuke's mother and a message like—like this?

Kyoko jumped as the gunshot rang across the deck; the Celestials recoiled, their first reaction during the entire exchange, which she found odd. To hear their entire history relayed in such a fashion—and to such an end! But if they truly could not feel...she wasn't sure if she wholly believed that or not. Daisuke's mother certainly had seemed to feel for her son, upon seeing him again. Yet she had also left them for her own selfish reasons nineteen years ago.

Giovanni sat down heavily, ashen-faced; Monica ran to him and looped her arm through his. "Hey, you gonna be okay?" she asked in concern; he didn't seem to hear her. "He really..." he began. "He actually..."

"_My beloved son." _The bodyguard's head snapped up at the old man's voice, still strong and hale. _"Do you not see?"_

"_I...I can't...I just can't..." _Gasping, panting, a thud as the gun presumably fell to the floor. _"I...I keep coming back to the cage..."_

"_And why is that?"_

A muffled sound scraped across the earbud, followed by the faint sounds of a heart beating: Clair had collapsed against his father. _"I...I love you, Papa..."_

Giovanni swore, tears beading at the corners of his eyes. "Damn it, Clair...don't do this to yourself..."

"What do you want him to do, anyway?" Monica asked saucily, despite her arm around his waist to comfort him. "First you don't want him to shoot, then you do..."

"Monica..." Kyoko warned, and the small girl once more fell silent.

"_I hate what you're doing...but...game over for me, huh?"_ He tried to laugh but couldn't. All the energy had left his voice.

"_And this, my beloved son, is what I wanted you to understand. This is why I want what I want for this world. Contrary to what most people think, it is so much harder for a heart that truly trusts to betray another than a heart that truly fears. Do you now see where you failed as Vampire?"_

"_I...won't let you down again, Papa..."_

"I'll kill him, then!" Giovanni drew his guns. "I'll take care of the bastard...if he thinks he can just..."

"_Good. Go lie down in Usagi's room, Clair. Rest up awhile, and regain your composure. Vampire should not allow himself to become so volatilely emotional."_

"_Yes, Papa." _The sound of staggered footsteps, then the old man's voice again, fainter.

"_My beloved son...I'm proud of you."_

o0o0o0o0o0o0

At least one thing left in Clair's life was working in his favor: due to Usagi's extremely impressionable nature while asleep, his father had soundproofed her room. Absently he was grateful for even this small blessing as he lay on her bed, clothes still sodden from being caught in the storm earlier and feeling like he could never stand again.

"Can you still hear me, Giovanni?" he mumbled into the pillows. "Are you there?"

"_Clair!" _The sounds of a minor scuffle. _"Give me that back, old man!...Yeah, I'm here. I heard. Clair, I'm coming for you. Don't worry."_

"No, don't." He didn't want to see the man. Didn't want to see anyone. He was ashamed of himself. "I'm not giving up again, Giovanni. I'll beat him. But I can't...I can't..."

"_I know, Clair. I understand. No one's asking you to."_

"Stay away, Giovanni. I don't want you to get hurt. I'll stop him myself."

"_But you..."_

"I'm not a baby, Giovanni!" he managed to shout, anger filling him again and providing him strength. "I know how to take care of myself! Don't give me that!"

"_I know, Clair."_ The kindness in the man's voice nauseated him. What right did he have to be understanding? What right had he _ever_ had? As far back as he could remember...

"All you ever give me is pity! You can't help me!" He had to scream at someone, but could not take the strain of directing his anger inwards where it truly deserved to be flung. So he hurled it across the miles, seeking to hurt as he had been hurt, to betray as he had been betrayed. "I _hate_ you!" Pulling out the earbud, he threw it across the room and pounded his fists in the pillows until he truly could no longer move. Finally he lay cold and sweaty in the blankets, barely breathing. "Giovanni...Giovanni, I'm sorry..."

But his friend could not hear him. No one could.

O0o0o0o0o0o0

"Put the knife down, Usagi," Leorza said wearily, glancing at the graze wound on his shoulder and cursing Trinity for walking off in all his bandages. "He's not going to hurt anyone anymore."

"Yes...Master." That pause was odd. Something still felt wrong about the situation.

"You are free to go, Usagi. Find...find the other Celestials for me. I think I shall need to speak to them again soon. In particular...find Nona."

"Yes, Master." She left silently.

Gritting his teeth, Leorza pulled the bullet out of his armchair and turned it over in his fingers, ignoring the shoulder wound for the time being. Perhaps _he_ had been the one to make an error, after all; perhaps _he_ had failed in his responsibilities. He had felt sorry for Usagi from the beginning, so he had treated her with kindness; in return, she gave him a loyalty so undying it shocked him at times. But he had never treated Clair as anything but a necessary step in his plans. Had he overlooked the duty a "human" father owed to his son? He had raised the boy to follow instructions. Was it not then his fault that, freed of others' commands, his son had self-destructed? Perhaps it was for the best Clair had returned. Now that the boy had purged all rebellion from his system, it would be much simpler to reestablish connections with Judoh. He could manage Company Vita personally, giving his son instructions for dealing with any potentially tricky situations. There would be no more tankers of napalm exploding on their way to the middle of the city, that much was certain. There would be no more tankers of napalm at all. No more games.

On to the next stage, then: perhaps all caution was backfiring on him. He had all the necessary elements where he needed them—a city in turmoil, a connection with the syndicate (assuming Trinity hadn't decided to defect on their agreement after the mix-up with Usagi), and (most importantly) a ship full of new blood idling in the harbor. How simple would it be, then, to test one section of his grand scheme before the rest had been fully realized? No one would suspect anything...

His fellow Celestials, though: they would never agree to help him. He had once offhandedly mentioned new-blooding the entire planet to a colleague, who had laughed at him and said not to be so extreme. Plus, the humans were weak. Some might not survive the first step of the transformation, as all the bad memories resurfaced to be washed away. Leorza figured his son would probably be one of those unfortunate victims. As he had earlier said, sacrifices needed to be made.

No, he had to decide once and for all how to treat Clair. Was he a son worthy of love and affection, ensuring further loyalty, or was he a horrible mistake to be eliminated as quickly and painlessly as possible? Leorza decided on the former. Vita could not be run by a new-blooded boy, especially if it grew strong within him. What a joke, if it did! The father whose connection was too weak, spawning a son who conceded all too easily...it had addled him in its diluted form...

But if he truly loved his son, he would end his pain. Certainly Clair suffered. The difficulty was: how to deal with it?

Oh, he didn't _really_ have to deal with this presently. The boy was likely out cold from his breakdown; he had a good two hours, at least, to worry about other things. Usagi was bringing the other Celestials; that was taken care of. The people from Judoh were impossible to trace whilce Usagi was otherwise occupied. Trinity, then: the next missing piece was Trinity.

Pulling out his cell phone to dial her number, something else fell out of his pocket: Clair's lip ring, taken from his son at their last meeting. His own lower lip curling, Leorza picked up the small object and dropped it without ceremony into the wastebasket. Its owner wouldn't be needing it in the future.

O0o0o0o0o0o0

Another evening fell. The police remained baffled as to the whereabouts of those responsible for assaulting the Celestials and finally worked up the courage to board the ship itself. But aside from the bodies of two of the heavenly creatures, one whose arm had been ripped off horribly by some monster of terrible strength, neither assailants nor the beings themselves could be found. Panicked, they sent the media away, saying more details would be released as was appropriate. They did not want the city to learn how badly they had erred until the problem had been solved. Squads were sent out in secret to locate the missing visitors.

Unknowingly, their wounded prides saved those they most desperately hunted: the Vita boat remained untouched and undiscovered in their hurry, figuring the back ports of Magnagalia, surrounded as they were by the blackest parts of town, would be avoided by the purity-loving Celestials at all costs. All, at least on shore, remained quiet. On the yacht itself, however, a thunderstorm fiercer than those recently plaguing the city brewed.

Monica hammered on Giovanni's door to no avail, the man having locked himself away to think after receiving Clair's last message; Nona clapped her hands over her ears and screamed "I don't want to hear it!" as Shun, impassively, described the coup of Judoh he had orchestrated while masquerading as her brother; Daisuke, listening, squirmed uncomfortably for both parties involved and began to wish he hadn't rushed such confessions; J set about transferring the audio data he had recorded from the earbud conversation onto audio disc, noting with interest as he simultaneously combed news sites online that violent crime in the city had sparked as syndicate members tore through town looking for something; and Kyoko, fed up with her guests at last, sat them down for some full-scale confessionals.

"How long have you known he was doing this??" she asked, meaning Leorza. They shook their heads.

"He only ever mentioned it once..."

"We thought him dead until recently, as we did Echigo."

"Nona never believed. She left to find her brother."

"Yes, but Nona's a strange one."

Kyoko tried a different question. "Is everything he said true? About Celestial history?"

Assorted deflections of the query followed. She gleaned only that just those among the Celestials labeled "Wise", like Leorza, retained enough memory of the times before to know for certain, and anyway Leorza was old enough to be practically considered an original member of the crew, as they had at first asserted him to be. 'The past gets jumbled...so much is unpleasant.."

"Is it not hurtful, remembering the past?" one asked her. "Is what Leorza plans really so abominable to those who can feel pain? Though we consider it unwise, does it not tempt those such as yourself?"

"Of course not!" Kyoko returned angrily. "Changing us all without giving us a choice...I can't judge what you all decided, but there's too much good in knowing how to form relationships with other people to cast it aside just because you want to be happy all the time!" She clutched the silver bullet as she spoke. "I _live_ for the people I care about!"

"We care for the world. We live for the world."

"But it's not the same!" Giving up, she turned away. "Sorry to have wasted your time. I'm sure you all want to talk this over as well."

"There is nothing to discuss."

"No, until he is ready to reclaim all the new blood we have growing in storage we do not need to worry about it."

They were hopeless. Kyoko stalked off to go tell Daisuke what was going on.

She'd forgotten that also meant telling Nona and Shun.

O0o0o0o0o0o0

Trinity watched the news in her lab, a glass of wine in one hand and a cigarette in her mouth. Juggling the two got to be a bit difficult, so she drained the wine just as Usagi returned.

"That took awhile. Does he suspect anything?" Trinity lay down on her own experimentation table, puffing smoke at the ceiling as harried news reporters babbled in the background about the unusually aggressive tactics the syndicate had suddenly adopted, and how the police seemed strangely already stretched to their limits.

"He is distracted. I returned his son to him."

"Good girl...wait." She sat up, putting a hand to her head as her alcohol-addled brain swam from the sudden movement. "His _son_ is here?"

"Clair Leonelli. Twenty years old. He tried to kill his father but could not."

"I'll bet not. Well, well, Leorza..." She smiled. "This just keeps getting more difficult. But you shouldn't leave yourself so open. What if something happened to your little baby?"

"He would not care, I do not think."

Trinity switched off the television. If any of her men died, she'd be the first to know anyway. Someone would call her. Oh, no, damn. Never mind. She'd left her phone in her room in the hotel. She'd check her messages, then. "All right, then. New plan. He's probably going to go looking for his son's friends, who very likely are the same group that gave me trouble on the ship."

"Those were different people from Judoh. But when I first captured Clair, they were all together."

"You really should _tell_ Master these things, Usagi." She flicked ashes off the end of her cigarette and continued thinking aloud. "Anyway. Wouldn't it be helpful to get the Judoh sect on our side for once...even if they aren't good for anything...and I miss Daisuke...do me a favor, will you? I want at least one Judoh child to come here. Can you do that?"

"I will." Usagi vanished, and Trinity swore. She _hated_ it when the girl did that. Gave her the creeps, every time. Like that damn werewolf everyone was up in arms about a few years ago, the one she'd first hired the beast master to hunt down. He'd failed, of course. She sent him to Judoh to finish the job when some of her boys continued to complain about how she'd let the furry bastard get away. And the master had failed again. Government help didn't come cheap, either; even after whipping the man, she'd had to pay him off. Damn complicated life. Why'd she ever wanted the lousy syndicate, anyway?...

But that was over and done with. Usagi was like the Wolf because she was Wolf's Prize, bait, the sniveling hypnotist's next brilliant idea for snaring his elusive prey. And Usagi, as the gashes across Trinity's own body paid testament, was damn useful.

Yawning, she laid down again. What time was it? She'd had a busy day, inciting her entire crime conglomerate to riot and stealing her benefactor's best pawn from him...surely Magnagalia could go to the dogs (or the wolves, ha ha) without her for a few hours...

Her eyes closed; the cigarette slipped from her fingers and burned itself out on the concrete floor. Outside, far above her, a police siren wailed as backdrop to gunfire. The city would not sleep this night. It was under siege from within.

O0o0o0o0o0o0

Daisuke couldn't sleep that night, so he talked to Boma. The werewolf had stood stolidly, as was his wont, all through J's projection of Clair's attempted assassination of his father, but Daisuke figured he knew enough about what Leorza was plotting from his own experience and what Kyoko had told him. So they talked about Usagi instead.

"I know she is not the real Usagi. I never met the real Usagi; she is dead." Boma sat on the bow of the ship, watching the stars turn overhead with his sword by his side. "But this one has to have been intended for me, for she has defeated me. She is, therefore, my Usagi."

"I can't say I followed that," Daisuke admitted, slicing an apple from the pantry into pieces with a knife from the kitchen, "but what are you going to do about her, then?"

"I do not know." Boma accepted a piece of apple and chewed. It was the first time Daisuke had ever seen him eat. "But I feel for her. She is following orders without knowing why. I want to save her. But I also want to defeat her."

"Maybe if you defeat her, then you can talk." Daisuke shoved an apple segment into his mouth. "She can tell you what the deal is."

"Perhaps." They ate in silence for a while until the dark-haired man broke the stillness much to his fairer companion's surprise. "How did your brother and your mother react?"

"To the Leorza thing? Well, we were all floored. Mom didn't want to listen to half of it and ran out crying. Bro just kind of took it, but I can tell he was thinking really hard about it. Probably because, by continuing the Echigo charade, he kind of helped Leorza along without knowing it. As long as Vampire has the Shop's backing, he can't be stopped. You know?"

"Did he say anything?"

"Not really. He just wondered if all becoming Celestials was a bad thing. Bro's like that. Why? You two bond on the way over or something?" Daisuke smiled, but a spark in his eyes betrayed the turning gears in his mind. "Is something wrong?"

"He left again. Not half an hour ago. With...with my Usagi. I debated stopping them, but decided against it when her eyes met mine. I knew she knew me, and I could not bring myself to draw my sword. I am sorry, Daisuke. If your brother comes to harm, it is my fault."

But Daisuke had already run off to get a gun.

O0o0o0o0o0o0

Usagi, even through the haze of contentment the new blood washed over her mind, was getting tired of being the messenger girl. She had found the Judoh group around midnight and, poking around the cabins, had been startled to find a gun leveled at her head.

"You're Usagi," the long-haired man had accused; she had conceded the point and explained her reasons for coming: "Master wishes to speak with you. It concerns Master's plans."

"Oh, I've heard all your Master's plans," the man had replied with a dangerously pleasant smile. "I wouldn't mind an encounter either."

Which made her job almost inanely easy, but unfinished. After giving him instructions as to how to reach the Barony, to maintain appearances for her former Master she knew she also had to find the woman called Nona. "Do you know her?" she had asked.

The man had laughed out loud. "I should think so. She's my mother. The blonde-haired woman asleep on the floor in the next room. Do as you please."

Well, that was surprisingly easy! Usagi smiled to herself: yes, the world was indeed a very happy, good place in which to live. Things always worked out so well.

Now she nearly flew along Magnagalia's skyline, blue hair streaming and luminous behind her in the moonlight as she led the blonde-haired woman by the hand. "Leorza...you work for Leorza?" her prisoner asked for the seventh time, but to Usagi it felt like the seven thousandth.

"I am taking you to Leorza," she replied, keeping her eyes riveted on her goal. She had to trust that the man from Judoh would find her Master without running into difficulties along the way. She had given him one of her knives as a token to show the men guarding the secret entrance to the area below the Barony and hoped that would be sufficient. Surely the guards would not think the long-haired man had killed her. Even Usagi, sliding through life without much to call a self, was aware of her near-indestructibility.

"Here is the woman you requested, Master," she called, flinging the woman through Leorza's door and fading immediately to return to her true leader. Everything would work out well. She believed it with her entire being. And whatever dared interfere with the workings of her world...she would eliminate.

Usagi was, as both her masters would call her, a very, very good girl.


	19. Guardian, Kiss

**Episode 19: Guardian (Kiss)**

Leorza had just left his eighth message for Trinity on her cell phone when Usagi opened the door, pushed Nona in, and left again. Where else did she have to go? To retrieve the other Celestials, as he requested? Was Nona not with them, then?

"She did not treat you harshly?" he asked Nona, who was busy smoothing out her windswept hair but keeping her eyes leveled at him.

She shook her head. "She was not gentle, but...no, she didn't hurt me."

"I am glad to hear it." He wandered nonchalantly over to Usagi's room, opened the door a crack and peered in: Clair was still fast asleep on the bed. Nodding to himself, he shut the door again and locked it, just to be safe. His son would not be interfering.

Returning, he smiled pleasantly at her. "May I offer you a seat? Some food? Drink?"

"Stop, Leorza," she said in a low, nearly choked voice; but she took the proffered chair. He sat opposite her, watching her every slight movement with rapt attention. How she had changed from even the last time he had seen her mere days ago! A new gravity bore her down. Had something finally managed to penetrate her joyful isolationist cloud? He was both relieved and let down—so even those in whom the new blood was strong could, under the right impulses from the harsh outside world, become confused and pained. Would this affect his plans?...no, no, to feel the effects of another's passion, another must first feel the flames.

He opened his mouth to attempt another go at polite conversation, but she would not have it. "Leorza, I know all about it. I know why you wanted Magnagalia to stay alive. You wanted them in your debt, didn't you? For the future you dreamed of? I told you you were crazy..."

"The only thing separating the mad from the sane is that the mad refuse to accept the world in which they live. By that definition, to which I fervently cling, you and all our people are insane, and not just I." He brushed a speck of dust off of his deep red armchair. "Continuing to operate under that premise, your eldest son is crazed as well, I believe."

"You always do this, even when you're trying to be kind. Do you always have to try and hurt me?"

"You can be hurt?" He looked up in mock surprise. "Your famed sensitivity extends to those of your own kind? What a failure, Nona. What a horrible failure."

"Leorza." She blinked hard; he glimpsed the tears she was trying to hide, the emotions she smothered to maintain her peace of mind. "You don't have to lord yourself. I give up. I surrender. Whatever it is you want of me...whatever you've always wanted...you win. I don't care what happens to me, just tell me why you've always singled me out...I have a right to know...and your son! How could you, to your own son?..."

"Why, in short, do I cause others to suffer now so none will have to suffer in the future? Why do I persist in my human hypocrisy? Are you, who never seeks to understand and only to be, asking me for _justification_?" He stood, walked away; she followed. "I looked after you once Echigo left because it was my duty to my friend to look after his much younger sister, since your parents had remained behind. You needed a guardian, and I took on the task with alacrity. But Nona..." He took her hands and pulled her near, made her look into his brilliant eyes. "The new blood is weak in me, as you know; this is both my greatest boon and my greatest torment. How could I, who saw all to which you chose to remain blind, help but to look at you in disdain? And yet...how could I not envy you, even admire you?"

She shook her head and tried to break free, but he held her tight, hands beginning to grow brittle from age retaining a sinewy strength nonetheless. "Yet now you dare ask me _why_. You, who until I returned to plague your peaceful life, cared about no one's feelings but your own."

"I care. But...I thought everyone was _happy_ except you. I don't know why they aren't...and if I know why you are, then..."

Her lips stopped moving as his closed over them, pressed against hers as he looped his arms around her back and pulled her up against him. She struggled in surprise but soon went limp in his hold, unable to break loose of his embrace and so giving in, though she refused to kiss him back.

Finally he let her go, pulling himself off of her mouth with the same sudden violence as he had descended. She stumbled backwards, still dazed; her side bumped a table and she leaned on it, staring up at him in starry doelike fear.

Heaving a single breath to regain his composure, Leorza smoothed out his pristine white hair, then dropped his hands. He cast her a single glance. "That's why, Nona. So no one ever has to feel what I felt again. Better bland contentment than unresolved passion.

"I asked you to come with me when I fled for a reason. But I respected you too much, and still do, to force you to follow me against your will. Once I believed you might have returned...what I felt but feared you could not comprehend. After Marius I knew you comprehended, but could not return."

"I would have," she whimpered. "Once, long ago...before Marius..."

He smiled humorlessly. "But you could not understand until Marius showed you. Then it was too late for me. I understood that. And so I accepted the task Echigo set before me when the time came...but that does not enter into the current scenario. Nona..."

The way he said her name made her heart ache and recoil at the same time. Faintly she became aware that somehow _she_ was being blamed for the plots he had hatched in his long decades among humanity, that without trying _she_ had led him to think that the humans would all benefit from the new blood. Some fickle beast in their minds made them prize feeling pain if it meant all their other connections to each other could remain, and so the return expedition had judged that the humans must be treated as children, but their values respected. "What do you want me to do?" she whispered in fright, her lips still feeling phantoms against them. "Just don't make me feel that again, Leorza..."

His arms encircled hers again, but this time with gentleness. "My beloved child. You need not do anything. Simply aid me in moving the Celestial ship to where we can link it to the high-end systems. You can do that, can't you? So no one will ever be sad again?"

"I don't want you to be sad, Leorza," she admitted, resting her head against him as she had leaned on Shun for comfort. "Because you're sad, you hurt other people. I don't want other people to be hurt." A thought occurred to her. "But if you...to me...then your wife?"

He shrugged. "I needed an heir. The woman I married needed me. Things worked out."

"Not for your son!"

"My son does not factor into this. My son shall deal with yours, and none of them will be hurt. Trust me, Nona."

"I can't..."

"Nona, _for_ our children, if you insist on dragging them into this. You've seen how they suffer. For Shun and Daisuke and Clair; won't you give them a chance to be happy?"

"Shun is upset with me...I don't know why..."

"He won't be. I promise."

"Shun will be happy...?" She smiled.

"And you promised to help. It is your duty, Nona. Remember what my mother always used to speak of? Remember Vita?"

"You miss your mother, don't you?" she asked, the first glimmers of true understanding planting themselves in her mind.

"Terribly."

"For everyone whose parents hurt them, then..." she mused, feeling invisible chains bear her down at last, "I'll help you. But Leorza!"

Carefully he helped her lie down on the sofa, arranged her hair so it billowed out around her head, and covered her with a blanket. "You just lie there and get yourself ready, Nona. My son has these same fits from time to time when he hears unpleasant things. They are _necessary_, Nona. Before we all descend into insanity forever, we must for one crystal moment become tragically sane."

o0oo0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Trinity thumbed through the messages on her cell phone with a wry smile. Something had Leorza worried, and his anxiety amused her greatly. Did he suspect her already? What a clever boy! Oh, well. It had to happen sometime...and her men should already be on the way to deal with him...they had all balked at the notion initially, but she had reminded them that with Usagi under her control, he was nothing more than a scheming old man with millions in a dead person's bank account in two other cities. Totally harmless. That's what he got for hurting her.

Someone knocked; she buttoned her lab coat and let them in. The guards shooed into the room a tall young man, and Trinity whistled. _Good taste, Usagi..._ she thought, seeing the knife clutched in one of the man's pale hands. _They make them nice in Judoh, don't they?_

"Where is Leorza?" the man demanded, pale green eyes icy behind his eyeglasses. "What is this?"

Oh, dear. "Whatever do you mean?" Trinity asked, sitting on her table and patting the space next to her for the man to do likewise; he refused the offer. "Don't tell me you weren't informed. Usagi changed Masters. I'm Baroness of the Magnagalian syndicate and her new puppeteer. And you are...?"

He pushed his glasses up his nose. "Shun Aurora."

"My, I'm honored!" She lit a cigarette. "We've heard of you even here. Smoke?" He shook his head, irritation plain on his cold features. Trinity laughed in his face. "Let me guess. You saw Usagi and thought she wanted to take you to Leorza. My apologies. I can send you there; do you wish to go? You do understand that I'll have to take the knife first, of course. And without it as identification...well, my boys get a little confused from time to time. Do you see?"

He sighed. "It doesn't matter. I can tell you just as easily as him. I want to join up with you."

She blinked. "Oh, really..."

"You have a great deal of power, Baroness. You understand its importance and necessity for achieving goals in this world of conflicting, foolish wills, do you not?"

"Of course." Thrusting a hand into her coat pocket, she pressed a few buttons on her phone. Grendel, shut down in the corner, revved to life. She had a new message; with one ear she listened to one of her operatives report that Leorza's apartment was abandoned, but she could not respond with the man from Judoh in the room. No, she had to focus on one thing at a time. "But you can't expect me to give you that. What are you after?"

"Peace of mind. I cannot return to Judoh, and I cannot face my mother's people. I promised my younger brother something that I simply cannot give. Therefore, I ask for protection and a place to stay." She thought she detected a waver of fear in his voice, in the way his eyebrows drew together almost quizzically. "Be it in Leorza's ideal Magnagalia or in the city as it is now...either will rid me of my problems."

"Running away?"

"Perhaps." His thin line of a mouth pressed even tighter. "Perhaps merely acknowledging defeat."

"How hard did you try to fulfill this promise, may I ask?" Give Grendel time to warm up, keep stalling. Really, she hadn't had such a diversion in the longest time! It almost made the frustrating news about Leorza seem less of a snag. "After all, from what I know of him your little brother Daisuke seems accepting enough. Nice boy. Very _good_ fighter. Quite profitable."

"Do you enjoy toying with people in such a way?" Shun slid his hands into his own pockets and looked at her out of the corners of his eyes.

So he thought himself on level ground, eh? Best teach him. "Watch your tone. I'm quite fickle, as anyone in this city can tell you." She gestured to Grendel. "And my friend Grendel here almost always wakes up in a bad mood..." The machine grunted in agreement.

"Enough small talk," Shun snapped tersely. "To business, Baroness. I am willing to pay for your protection, and by 'protection' I mean the very machine to which you refer. Yours is stronger than the one I have to offer you, but my machine I think should provide you with more amusement."

"Give up Grendel just when both he and Usagi are mine?" She frowned, but the pieces were clicking together in her brain. "How do you think you can suggest such a thing? Let's see this machine of yours. What's it called? What's its specialty?"

"You'll see." Shun pulled a flat rectangular device from his pocket, spoke into it. "J. Come to me immediately."

o0oo0o0o0o0

Running out on deck and slinging a pack of bullets onto his back, Daisuke knocked on the captain's cabin. "J? J! Are you there, J?"

The machine answered the door. "I am here, Daisuke. What is wrong?"

"Bro's gone," Daisuke replied grimly. "He left with Usagi. We're going after him."

"Technically, he left after speaking with Usagi," Boma put in. "I misspoke earlier. The one who left with Usagi was..."

"What's all the noise about?" Rubbing sleep out of her eyes, Monica came up on deck.

Kyoko followed not far behind. "Daisuke, your mother's gone."

"...Nona," finished Boma, seeming not to care about the interruption.

"Damn!" Daisuke slammed his fist on the yacht's railing. "And let me guess—Giovanni went after Clair anyway!"

"What about Vampire?" The bodyguard anxiously joined them.

"Oh, nothing," Daisuke replied, scowling darkly at his reflection in the water. His mother and his brother stared back at him from the rippling face below, and he did not want to see them. "Go back to bed, everyone. We don't want to wake the Celestials..."

"Hey, kid! You hiding something?" Giovanni grabbed Daisuke by the shirt and spun him around. "You aren't wearing a gun for nothing!"

"Easy, that's the only shirt I've got." Daisuke extracted himself from the man's grip. Kyoko, seeing the look on the blond man's face, ducked back down the stairs and reappeared soon after in her black leather.

"Excuse me! Is there another gun in the storeroom? Mine got broken..."

"Take one of mine. They don't match my suit." Giovanni handed it over; he _slept_ with them on? Daisuke wondered for a moment before realizing what was going on.

"Whoa, hold on, we aren't all..."

"My Usagi. I must defeat my Usagi." Boma leapt off the ship and landed on the pavement. "Come, Daisuke."

"Hey, hey, just a minute!" Daisuke grabbed Kyoko's arm as she began to climb out of the boat. "What do you think you're doing?"

"We left you alone for a year," Kyoko pointed out, winking, "and look how well that turned out."

"A real man offers a helping hand." J smiled at Kyoko. "Or a real woman."

As Daisuke considered relenting, Boma's head jerked up; his human mask faded and his long black ears swiveled around. "Enemies are coming," he reported, jumping back on the boat as the first hail of gunfire peppered the side. Startled, Kyoko yelped and threw herself down on the deck, covering her head with her hands.

"What the hell--" Daisuke fell down next to her, his own weapon at the ready. "J!"

"Analyzing," reported the android as more shots rang out; bullets bounced off his broad chest. Giovanni scooped Monica up and deposited her in the stairwell, then drew his remaining handgun and began returning fire from behind the cabin. "There are thirteen of them. They are on the Magnagalian wanted list as members of the crime syndicate."

"Thanks, Trinity." Daisuke rolled his eyes. "Jeez, you piss a lady off..." All joking aside, the attack was supremely poorly timed for his purposes. There was no way he could catch up to Shun—or his mother—if he had to fight his way out.

"Excuse me!" Kyoko peeped her head out and fired several shots. "Why are you attacking us?" Bullets answered her question; she ducked down again. "Well, they're rude!"

"Surrender the Celestials!" someone on land called. "And maybe we'll let you li--" He fell silent suddenly.

Grabbing Daisuke's ammunition bag, Giovanni reloaded. "I don't trust guys who say 'maybe.'"

"Where are the Celestials?" Daisuke asked J.

"Below deck. They are in no danger unless those men board or..." J's voice trailed off; his head rose, as if listening to something far in the distance. Then, with a mighty push, he launched himself off the yacht and dashed down the road, knocking gunmen out of his way.

Daisuke grabbed onto the railing as the boat rocked back and forth from the force of J's liftoff. The first few Celestial faces poked out of the stairwell; he furiously gestured for them to go back inside. "J!" he yelled. "J! What's wrong?"

"Not again, old man..." Giovanni ran an agitated hand through his black hair. "I thought you'd gotten over that."

"Gotten over what? Daisuke, bullets please."

He slid the pack over to Kyoko as the bodyguard explained himself. "Looks like Big Brother's up to his old tricks, eh? Damn, and this arm just got better."

"You don't know that! Don't accuse Shun!" Daisuke's aim was off from distraction: two of his shots went awry, and he got a shower of lead from his targets in return. He wondered how long the side of the boat could take such abuse, or how long the enemy could keep missing. But at the moment, he was too angry at Giovanni to care about either other problem."Especially after what your Vampire pulled!"

"Don't you dare lump him in with your traitor family! Where's your mother, anyway? Damn flighty broad..."

"Both of you, stop this!" Kyoko's bright eyes flashed in anger as she shot a glare at first Giovanni, then Daisuke. Her reproaching tone carried even over the sound of the syndicate's weapons. "We can't fight those other people if we kill each other first!"

"Daisuke, do you want me to take care of the things here?" Boma's voice was suddenly close to his ear; the man materialized next to him on the deck. "Head for the Barony Hotel. I found you there. It's a good place to start."

The young operative nodded. "Thanks, Boma. Good luck. Giovanni? Sorry, man."

"Yeah, whatever..." the man grumbled, apparently still upset. "Be right back." He ducked into the cabin area, shoving Celestials out of his way rudely. Running, he felt in his pocket for something and drew it out.

"Little lady!!" He pounded on Monica's door; she opened it grumpily.

"Haven't you taken care of whoever's out there yet?" she demanded. "Do you have any idea what it's like to be just down here _listening_??"

He shoved what had been in his pocket into her hands. "We're leaving you the Celestials. Don't let anything happen to them. The stuff for using the gun turrets is in the storage areas next to the regular ammo if you need it. But only in emergencies."

"So fire it now!!"

"What, and let the whole world know we've really got the Celestials? No thanks! That's what they're after. They said so themselves. If we just take care of this bunch the normal way, they may just dismiss it as self-defense."

"They're not that stupid!"

"That's what those are for." He pointed at his gift to her. "But they're a loan only. Later!" Ruffling her hair, he ran off for the deck.

"Sorry, Vampire," he muttered under his breath, remembering the way the little girl had closed her hand around the pair of purple dice just like the young man had over a year ago. "But she needs the luck more. And Mitchal would have liked her too. Another active lady, you know?"

He allowed himself a small grin before heading to the storeroom for his suit. Time to party.

o0o0o0o0o0o

The android barreled into Trinity's lab, steam billowing in his wake and howling as it escaped his pipes. She stepped back in impressed surprise, and Shun smiled grimly. The police had thought all his controls for the machine had been confiscated and destroyed. They hadn't bet on his having an extra prepared for just such an emergency, an extra he kept on his person at all times after the original had been taken from him. They hadn't found the spare when they cleaned out his apartment. Lucky him.

Many times over the past year he'd debated getting rid of even the extra controller, feeling that were he truly to try to let go of his bitterness he should begin by robbing himself of his greatest defense, but he had never been able to relinquish his last-resort plan. And he was being rewarded now.

Oh, but the lie had been so hard to manage! Shun had wanted to speak with Leorza himself, to ask him about the plan that admittedly intrigued a mind seeking after a year of failed self-correction any balm for its wounds. When confronted with this Baroness instead, the woman who had imprisoned his brother, he had invented the first excuse for his presence he could think of. No, he was done running away. The woman had his back against the wall, and there was only one way out of her trap. It was time to fight again, but Shun Aurora had never learned to fight fair.

"Very nice!" The woman had seen J before, he knew from what Daisuke had said of the rescue, but this was her first opportunity to examine him up close. Controls held tightly in Shun's grip, the machine stood stoically as the woman flitted around him, appraising. "And the AI is definitely years ahead of what we have now...this could be even more useful than the new blood..."

"Leorza let you have new blood?" He was surprised the ever-cautious Lorenzo Leonelli would have made such a dangerous gamble despite his preoccupation with his new plan.

"For Grendel's fuel and use in sedative drugs...he held back about it for a long time." Ah, good. She was starting to trust him. "Well, I'll give him a trial run. What do you say? You get to hide with Grendel until I'm done analyzing this one's AI. If I like what I see, the trade sticks. Deal?"

"I will have to reset the voice recognition software." Shun made a show of pressing buttons on his controller.

"Grendel's purely manual." Confident and eager for her new toy, she handed over the small control box before being given J's, brushing her fingers against his slowly as she placed it into his hand. Shun smiled.

"Thank you, Baroness. Grendel..." He typed. "Don't move. And J..." He spoke into the other device. "Kill her."


	20. Water, Flood

**Episode 20: Water (Flood)**

"U-Usagi!" The guard ran up to her as she entered the Barony, his face white. "I-in the lab—someone's broken into the lab--"

"And you did not go see what is happening?" she asked, sending the man even deeper into his nervous fit.

"It's some kind of a monster—it howls and it clangs and--"

"Enough." With her one remaining knife, she slashed his face; he stumbled backwards, clutching the wound with both hands. "You cannot even guard yourself. Leave." Not waiting to see if he obeyed her command, she pushed past him and into the elevator that, if she pressed the right combination of buttons, would not take her up but down. She punched in the code and closed her eyes. Already her tranquility was being once again interrupted. It was her solemn duty, both to herself and to her Master, to maintain that tranquility by any means possible.

The elevator doors slid open onto the underground hallway; she exited and headed for the lab, knife at the ready. Approaching the open door, she heard the frantic breaths of a frightened woman and quickened her pace.

The tall man in black whom she had seen on the Celestial ship stood over the fallen, bruised form of her Master, his eyes glowing red yet his muscular body seemingly frozen. "I refuse," he said to himself. "I cannot execute this command." Grendel, too, stood by and did nothing. In the corner, the man to whom she had given her other knife held it in one hand and a small flat device in the other. She ignored him. He was of no consequence. He was not the threat.

Usagi's eyes closed again; she felt the floor drop from beneath her feet as sleep descended on her. Her body knew what to do from here. The fight would happen in her dream, and when she stopped dreaming the evil would be gone. That was how it always had been, ever since she could remember. The beast masters had blessed her when they gave her this ability. To eliminate her problems without cognizance of the event—there was the true happiness. She need not worry about anything at all. Never had she considered the fact that, while sleeping, she could literally not control her actions. Never did she think that she might someday wake up to a worse nightmare than that she sought to cut away.

Thus it was that her body, freed from all constraints, fell into the enhanced, graceful patterns of combat her own tenure as a huntress and the later patrons of her mind had etched deep within the very core of her being. Seeking first to eliminate the greatest threat, she leapt at the tall stocky man, but against his metallic frame her knife scraped and finally snapped. Her intended target himself ignored her, caught up as it were with his own struggles as his fist slowly, shaking, rose over Usagi's Master's head.

She discarded the broken hilt almost carelessly, tossing it aside and snatching her other knife from the blond man. Whirling back to the attack, she circled him like a lioness assessing the afternoon's prey, seeking somewhere, anywhere where her blade might stick and bite.

Her eyes turned upwards to the convulsing black-coated man, she did not notice the obstacle on the floor until she stumbled over it and fell. Momentarily angered, she slashed the bundle repeatedly, memory of a similar event flitting briefly across her mind before disappearing into the haze of sleep into which she had plunged her consciousness. No, the obstacle did not matter. It had been duly punished for interfering. She focused once more on the man.

"J, that's enough. Let's go. Grendel, stop her!" the blond man ordered, now moved somewhere behind her where the obstacle lay; the dark-skinned machine rumbled to life and grabbed for Usagi's arm; she dodged, jumping up onto the table and from there down onto him, stabbing at the vulnerable areas around the machine's eye sockets. Gouging, her knife found an opening in the metal plating at last, and as strong arms grabbed her and lifted her off of him she ripped free an optical processor, wires dangling from her fist as the android, maddened by the act, slammed her against the wall. Her head knocked the cement surface hard, startling her awake.

A splitting headache greeted her as her eyes opened onto the waking world; the smell of blood seeped into her sensitive, enhanced nose. Starry-eyed from the jolt, she crumpled to the ground as Grendel let her go. Something was sticking into her palm; she opened it and out dropped the machine's eye. It stared up at her almost accusingly; she met its insolent gaze in bafflement until her own eyes landed on the spectacle on the floor.

Her Master lay in a pool of spreading, seeping crimson, breathing shallowly. Crisscrossing the scarring cuts along her body, longer and deeper gashes slowly leaked her life onto the floor. Gasping, the woman stared almost pleadingly at Usagi. "Bitch..." she spat voicelessly. "Leorza's still...aren't you?"

"No," Usagi protested, taking the woman in her arms heedless of the blood staining her clothes. "No, Master. I didn't...I couldn't..." She hadn't. She would never attack her Master. Such a thing could not happen, not in this world where all was perfect. The new blood roiled within her, caused the newly-made Celestial's brain to shut down. "It wasn't me. It was..." But the room had been abandoned. She was alone, save for the machine behind her standing dumbly by. Grendel had always been lost without orders. He was like Usagi in that respect.

The woman tried to laugh but choked instead; spit bubbled on her colored lips. "Go away, Usagi. Do you need someone to blame? Nona...Nona killed me, then. Nona killed me long ago...I never stood a chance, did I, Father? And you knew it...so you cried at the end..." A single tear, streaked with mascara, trickled an ashy stream down her cheek; her eyes fluttered closed. Her chest, open and exposed by the ripped-apart lab coat, sunk and remained collapsed.

Her head lolled in Usagi's hold, and the girl screamed.

o0o0o0o0o0o

"Nona...Nona killed me, then."

Mind clotted with pain, she could barely understand what she herself was saying, certainly couldn't figure out why she wasn't conserving her breath. Was she really so fond of her own voice that she would expend her last few seconds by squandering meaningless speech?...no, not meaningless. She would never see her enemy's defeat, for the blonde woman had won from the beginning. "Nona killed me long ago."

"_I cannot expect one such as you to understand my reasoning, Trinity." Leorza's voice had dripped with scorn. "Not one who ignores her responsibilities, who sought dominance through brutality."_

_Again with that! Oh, why had she ever let herself get drunk in the presence of this man? Why had she ever told him—boasted, even—of the use for which she'd employed her very first machine? "You're doing it all for a woman? What, you think you'll get her attention only if you rule the world? That's pathetic, Leorza. I didn't expect you to be a sap."_

"_Rule the world?...oh, believe that of me if you will." He smiled. "What of the weapon you can give me?"_

Nona, Nona...she'd never even met the woman, yet in seeking to take her place Trinity had lost everything else. The syndicate had frowned on the favors she bestowed on the white-haired gentleman she had seemingly adopted, muttered when they thought she couldn't hear about the unfair influence the newcomer held. But it could hardly be helped. In a strange way, she felt sorry for his child, poor loser sap that he no doubt was. Something about his father's manner made her long to impress him in a way no one else could. Perhaps it was _because_ nothing was ever good enough...that if she could maybe someday attain that pinnacle, what she had done would have been worth it...

"I never stood a chance, did I, Father? And you knew it..."

"_What do you mean I don't get the syndicate??" Her voice cracked like a boy's; her whole body rankled with anger. "What have I ever done?"_

"_You're too easily distracted, Trinity. You're too selfish." The old man stroked his still-black beard; as a child, she had played with that black curtain. Now she wanted to yank it out by the roots. "All this machine nonsense...you'll never stand a chance. Besides, you're a woman."_

"_Father!!" Behind her, the automaton she'd constructed on the sly balled its steel hands into fists. "Aren't I bright enough? Clever enough? I'm popular, Father! They like me! And they hate you!!"_

"_Oh, really? How much?"_

"...so you cried at the end..."

_She smiled cruelly, wildly. "Enough that I got the go-ahead to do this." Pulling the gun out from her new lab coat, she shot him twice in the chest; as he fell backwards in his chair, her machine was already baring down on him, metal fingers grabbing him by the throat and twisting. She lit a cigarette and blew the smoke at him as his neck snapped; his eyes met hers with his dying breath and tears beaded on his lids. Then came the crack, and silence._

Now she wanted to go back and undo that quiet, feeling that somehow by erasing that one moment she could escape the light-headedness swimming across her own addled senses, but it was too late. Unable to hold their own any longer, her eyes closed; she felt something sticky and salty gumming them up.

The last thing her father had heard was her own cry of laughter. The last thing Trinity heard was Usagi's scream.

O0o0o0o0o0o

Standing before one of the massive new blood tanks on the Celestial ship, Clair debated trying to blow it up with the one grenade remaining in his possession but soon decided such an action would help the situation little. Already his father and Shun's mother—he could not, for some reason, think of her as Daisuke's mother as well—were connecting the tanks to the main water pipes of Magnagalia. He himself had aided them, using some of the Blue Tabs in his belt-bandolier to dispose of the water plant workers. Every drop of water in the city flowed from the oceanside refinery, which itself was helped along by the high-end system powering it. All too soon, the system would cut out briefly, the water would be replaced with new blood, and his father's Celestial paradise on earth would begin.

What had happened on this ship? In some places, there was dried blood on the walls. Clair's lip curled at the sight in distaste, and he rubbed at his mouth irritably: he'd gotten so used to the lip ring that not having it in made him feel almost incomplete. His demands for its return had fallen upon ears of stone, for all he could tell. Leorza—his father—had ignored him completely when he brought the subject up.

Upon seeing the ship moving, the news teams of Magnagalia had sent out investigative helicopters; the buzzing of their propellers echoed in Clair's ears as he leaned listlessly against the tank. He had, by his reckoning, three hours tops to figure out some way to keep the new blood from replacing water all over taps in Magnagalia, but could not think of a solution that didn't involve his father dying. Pragmatically, if Clair wanted to continue living life with a mind of his own, free to feel as he wished, the man was too dangerous to be kept alive; but the young don had already failed to kill his father once and in his mind that cemented the outcome of any future attempts.

Idly he considered contacting Giovanni and seeing if the others had any ideas yet—at the very least they deserved to be notified of the immediate peril—but feared his father discovering the earbud now safely replaced on the right side of his head. He craned his neck down the hallway: no one around. Better sooner than later.

He flicked the bud on. "Giovanni?" he asked, determined not to sound cowed or ashamed despite his juvenile behavior when last he and his bodyguard had spoken. Vampire did not apologize, even if he had been in the wrong. Vampire merely moved on.

"Cl-Clair!!" The voice on the other end sounded nearly panicked. "Clair, not now!" A familiar sound echoed in the background: a machine gun, firing repeatedly and strewing shells about.

"Where are you?" Clair hissed, trying to balance being heard on the other end and not being heard by his companions, wherever they might be.

"Dancing at the Barony. And you?" Giovanni had regained his cool. The young don was glad of the fact. Bad enough that _he_ had totally lost all composure earlier. For his employee to suffer a similar breakdown...well, as Mauro would say, it would embarrass the family. And...and he didn't want to think about Giovanni as being weak.

"The _Barony_??" What, that hotel Boma had thought Daisuke was at earlier? "Giovanni, the problem's at the _Celestial_ ship! Get over here, now!"

"Ah, no can do, Vampire. In the middle of something...Dictator's betrayed us. Big surprise."

"What?" He clapped a hand over his ear. "How?" Why now? Why now, of all times? Could that idiot man have picked a _worse_ time to finally snap? Clair felt himself fill with hate for a world that could arrange such horribly-timed catastrophes.

"He left with Usagi, and then the old man ran off. Do the math."

Clair knocked his head against the new blood tank in frustration; gunfire resounded through the earbud, coupled with Giovanni's heavy, intense breathing. "This is an order," the young man said sternly. "Kill him, when you find him. I don't care who hates me for it. I'm not happy."

"Hey, I ain't thrilled either." A beeping sound, and a curse: Giovanni's "suit", a man-operated giant android vehicle, had run out of bullets.

"Watch your tone, Giovanni." Clair smiled wryly. "Wrap that up as fast as you can, then get over to the water refinery. Otherwise this whole city's going to get a very, very unwanted transfusion."

"Clair!" His father's voice calling for him drowned out Giovanni's reply. He switched off the bud hurriedly and ran towards the sound.

"Coming, Papa." His father was waiting for him at the end of the hallway; he had to climb over several thick cables to get to them. "It's all set up, then?" He tried to sound subservient, even eager. In reality, he could feel himself chafing; with the return of his old irritability came also a bit more of his confidence. Merely the knowledge that he'd made contact with the others strengthened him. Now the fate of Magnagalia was Giovanni's problem, not his. He just had to stall as long as possible to buy his friends more time.

"It is, indeed," Leorza acknowledged. "Nona has gone to shut off the high-end system so the water will stop flowing and the switch can be made." His father had never been this familiar with him before. It upset Clair. "My beloved son...I will give you an opportunity to make amends to me. You may open the new blood tanks when the time comes."

"Thank you, Papa." He kept his eyes low. Like _hell_ he would be the one to pull that lever, or whatever he needed to do! But he could not say that, could not disobey. The creature could only rattle the bars of its cage and wait for someone to come along with a key.

Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, once again he was reminded of the grenade hidden in his pocket. That was a key of sorts...but it wasn't the right fit. Yet he wanted to use it so badly, and he'd never been good at resisting temptation...

Stall, then. Stall for time to distract both his father and himself. "You never would have let me earlier...I'm honored, Papa." Look at me! I'm the good son! I'm the good son you've declawed and beaten...I have no self-respect, I'm totally powerless against my enemy, but I'm the good son you always wanted! Is that enough?

"Ah, Clair." His father slid an arm around him, and his skin prickled. This was all wrong. This was horribly wrong. His father never touched him except in blind fits of rage. His father never tried to befriend or honor him. This was some other, humane being. This was _not_ his father. "I thought about what you said earlier. Your failures as Vampire are my fault in addition to yours. Was it not my responsibility to prepare you? As well as...I have never been a father to you, my beloved son."

Angry, Clair shrugged off Leorza's arm. "Why start now, then? It's not like I'll hold it against you once you force...once I drink enough new blood."

Realizing his error, Clair cursed himself for slipping up. Leorza's brows drew together and he opened his mouth to reply. "Clair--"

A beeping sound interrupted the man: the cell phone in his jacket. Pulling it out, he smirked at the number displayed. "Finally, she calls." He flipped open the phone and put it to his ear. "Trinity? Your men have us surrounded. I assume there's an explanation and..."

What? Clair looked out the window, and felt his heart sink down to his black slip-on shoes. No less than forty men stood or crouched on the dock, weapons all poised at the Celestial ship. None made a move to fire, though: were they afraid of something? Waiting to be certain those they sought were on board? No, they had a sign propped up on—oh, perfect, up on a _tank_. "Surrender Nona or we fire at the new hour." Clair's lonely grenade began to look a bit measly in comparison to the opposition. And he would have killed for a watch to check the time.

Next to him, his father started. "Who are—oh, I see. It's been a while, hasn't it? I trust they treated you well after your surrender. Where is Trinity? I see." His shoulders sagged. "The fool. Even after being warned once...what? Indeed. Well, feel free to join your mother...hello? Hello?" Frowning even more violently, he switched his phone off. "Fool!" From his mouth, the minor insult sounded like the blackest curse. "Both of them!"

"What's wrong, Papa?" Clair asked, not having to feign concern.

His father sighed. "The blockade outside isn't going to like this. Their leader is dead. That was Shun Aurora on her phone. He stole it from her dying body."

o0o0o0o0o0o

Running down the hall, Boma was pleased to hear no footsteps trailing him. So everyone else was still busy upstairs, fighting for access to the underground levels, and the enemy had failed to notice a single figure slipping through to the elevator. After receiving Clair's message, Boma's friends had concluded that attacking the hotel had been a fruitless venture and sought to beat a rather embarrassed and shameful retreat to where they were truly needed; yet Boma's senses told him all was not yet right in the hotel. It had been a simple matter to inform Daisuke that he would take care of the situation, and simpler still to slip into the elevator and punch in the code he had seen on his first self-guided tour of the syndicate's headquarters. The tricky part, he figured, was coming up. Ahead of him, he smelled blood.

Reaching a doorway, he turned in and stopped. Before him on the floor, hugging a corpse close to herself and rocking back and forth as she cried with wide eyes, was...

"Usagi!" He pried the dead woman's mangled body from her fingers, took her by the shoulders and stared deep into her blank gaze. "Usagi! Can you hear me?"

She shook her head, whimpering. "I didn't...it wasn't me..." The blood on her hands and her weapon, lying next to her, betrayed the lie. Behind her, the dark-skinned machine swayed back and forth, wires hanging out of one empty eye socket; not trusting the android, Boma jammed his sword through the opening and punctured the central chips, already damaged by the eye's removal.

The steel giant toppled, nearly missing Usagi as Boma scooped her up out of harm's way. She grabbed onto his cloak and buried her face. "It wasn't me...it wasn't me..."

He understood. "Usagi. You cannot hide from reality forever. You will only hurt yourself." Smoothing back her matted blue hair, he twitched his mouth into a smile. "I hurt my only friend, too. But I made new ones. There is always another chance."

"A chance...to be happy?" She stared up at him like a child. "To make it go away?"

"No, Usagi. Never to go away. But to remember, and move on."

"Who are you?" she asked. "I know you...we fought...and I asked Master..."

"Boma," he replied simply. "I'll be your brother from now on."

"Boma..." She buried her face in his chest; he patted her back awkwardly, not entirely certain what to do next. From what Giovanni had yelled to the others, the most urgent situation existed over at the water refinery, of all places. Daisuke had surmised the particulars of the emergency, and off they'd gone, leaving Boma to pick up whatever pieces might be necessary at what was otherwise an accident. It was only fair; after all, he had suggested the Barony as a likely place to look for Shun.

Glancing around the room, his gaze narrowed on a black hat lying discarded in a corner. Shifting Usagi's weight in his arms, he bent over and picked it up. Yes, he recognized it. So his instincts hadn't been wrong after all.

"Usagi, where did the big man in the black coat go?" he asked her, showing her the hat. "The one who owns this?"

She shook her head. "I don't know...I don't want to know...I was supposed to hunt him but..."

"My Usagi." Bringing a booted foot down on her final knife, he broke the weapon in half. "You don't have to hunt anymore. You don't have to be scared. I will protect you."

A clamor in the hallway was followed by an errant gunshot; booted feet pounded down the corridor. Quickly Boma assessed the situation: a woman of obviously some importance dead on the floor of her own laboratory with her greatest machine sharing a similar fate by her side, and the blood-streaked murderer remaining at the scene of the crime. Remaining in his arms.

Setting the girl down in a corner and wrapping her in his cloak, Boma dropped his mask and drew his sword as the syndicate's men arrived. "Baroness!" they cried in horror and shock; then their fury directed itself to the lupine-faced man standing over the fallen woman and was fueled by recognition. "Werewolf!"

Boma leveled his sword as they readied their guns. In the corner, the small Celestial shook, knowing despite her protests that it was _she_ the men should be attacking. But she could not escape the fact, no matter how much she wished it away; she dared not sleep any more.

"Usagi," Boma repeated to himself, marveling at the turn of events his life had taken as the battle began but as firm in his resolve as ever. "I must protect my Usagi."

o0o0o0o0o0o

Nona emerged from the darkness of the Celestial Road into the great cavern containing the whirling golden high-end system machines and took in a deep breath. Around the generators, the air was fresh and pure, not like the stinking reek of death that had stained the tunnels from the four convict corpses still strewn within. The great contraptions whirred away, freshly reinvigorated from the ceremony—had it truly been a week or less since they had granted the temporary pardon to buy more time with which to speak to Leorza? Yet here she was, ready to retract the blessing, if only for a while. Once the machines were shut off, the city's water supply would stop flowing for a brief time, then restart without first undergoing purification. During that brief interlude, Leorza and his poor son would have to pump in the new blood instead. The Celestial ship had had all the necessary materials for massive new blood transportation on board already, lest one of the machines they inspected need extra help. She had never anticipated having to use it in such a fashion.

It wasn't too late to turn back, she reminded herself. She could still run, free as she was for the time being from Leorza's scrutiny. She'd gotten what she wanted from him; he had no way of guaranteeing that she keep her end of the bargain. Certainly, should the plan fail, she did not want to be looked upon as one of those at fault. Nona had spent most of her long life running from responsibilities and was too overwhelmed by the sudden onset of blame flooding her perception of the world to wish to actively add to the deluge.

But what did it matter if Leorza's plan succeeded or failed? He promised that if it went off well, her sons would be happy. Didn't that mean...she _had_ to help? For them? She had promised as much. Of what importance were promises?

She was thinking too much, and it bothered her. She had come here to do something; to go back without that thing accomplished would just be silly. Nona lifted her amulet high, felt the new blood in its three capsules pulse and live to the beat of the world around her, to the tempo set by the spinning machines. The new blood in the machines called to her amulet, set the new blood within to glowing in response. Around her, she felt the air whip her hair, called as it were to the power of the connection she sought to establish.

"Stop!" she called in a bright, clear voice, feeding the impulse from her heart and mind down her arm and into the token she held, and from there to the great dynamo before her. Shuddering, the golden towers slowed, then ground to a halt. Around Nona, the lights illuminating the room died; she could see only by the greenish light her own body, emanating the new blood's influence from its every pore, emitted as she further connected. There. It was done.

She let the amulet fall, dreading the long dark walk back to the ship and the plant. Yet some...the Master Celestial had the power to use the new blood to take him from place to place, did he not? Could she not attempt the same thing?

Closing her eyes and drawing on the massive stores of power now lying unused in the dormant machine, Nona tried to will herself back to Leorza's side. She pictured him in her mind, could see him standing on the bridge of the ship overlooking his grand scheme as it came alive at last. She could see his son, standing off to the side in uneasy compliance; she could feel the tanks of new blood pumping, pumping...calling her to them, to the connection...

She materialized by the great bluegreen tank just as Clair, his face drawn, pushed with all his might against the great wheel to open the tanks of new blood. But the look on his face negated any happiness or self-pride she might have felt upon her successful transportation.

If this was all to make those like him happy...why did his eyes then contain such pain?

O0o0o0o0o0o

"_Feel free to join your mother..."_ the voice on the other end had said, and the stolen phone had slipped from Shun's fingers to clatter onto the bathroom floor. He and J, having made good their escape from the lowest levels of the Barony, had forced their way into one of the rooms on the twentieth floor or so and were currently barricaded in the restroom, Shun figuring no one would figure to look in the actual legal part of the building itself. People were so stupid about some things. Determined not to be outsmarted, even the simplest ruses could throw them off.

Well, the same thing had just happened to him, hadn't it? Determined to get out and get to Leorza at all costs, bent on meeting with the man face-to-face and so maybe finding the solution to all of his problems, he had overlooked the fact that the messenger who had sent him to Baroness had also wanted to meet his mother. Of course she was playing both sides. How could he have not seen it? She was too omnipresent to be anything but a double agent...

So his mother had joined Leorza in his plans? Why? She had never shown anything but unusual disapproval of the man. So why go over to the side her colleagues so condemned?

Oh, what did it matter to _him?_ He was done for anyway. Again he saw the blades slicing through air and skin, and the bile rose again only to be choked back down. The dirty work of last year's revolution had been left to other men. Shun himself, aside from a rather clean murder perpetrated by his own hands, had only borne witness to heartless violence once...but that one time had been enough to send him to a mental hospital for a year, and that other clean murder had snapped something within his mind.

He could still see the light from the attack that had claimed his father's life and sent his own spiraling downwards, were he to close his eyes and cast his mind back. But now, layered on top of the explosion in his mind was that whirling knife, the knife he himself had held mere seconds before it had ripped the woman's life from her.

Trapped as it were by the situation, he had ordered J to kill the woman called Baroness because he felt himself out of options. He wanted out, and so used the only way he could see, perhaps reveling a bit in the deception. Then the girl had arrived, and he had panicked. He had maintained only enough sense to grab the dying woman's cell to contact Leorza afterwards, but even then his brain had been numb. Now it was tingling back to life, and he wasn't sure if he wanted that just yet.

Sitting on the lip of the bathtub, Shun removed his glasses and buried his head in his hands. Below he heard faint sounds, as if people were fighting and firing guns. What was he doing?...Why had he jumped at Leorza's plan that eagerly? He had been behaving like a fool ever since arriving in Magnagalia. And why? Why all the running around, all the errant decisions made with uncharacteristic, uncomfortable quickness? What did he want, anyway?

He didn't know. He didn't know what he wanted, what he had come for. That was his problem. At first, he had sought only to rescue Daisuke and save his own sense of self-worth, but his plans and goals had been jolted horribly off-track by the advent of his mother back into his life. She had rushed to him, held him close...and he had held her in return. For one brief moment, he had forgotten the past eighteen years, and that moment had lodged in his mind but gotten mixed up with the bitterness that had become a part of him. Could he disentangle it, examine it for what it really was? He had dismissed it at the time as an impulse generated by a mind unable to process information at the speed it was being fed. He felt himself be embraced; he embraced in return. He felt himself be abandoned by his mother; he abandoned all memories but the last in return. Action, reaction. The emotions of man, governed by physics.

So how explain this _thing_ inside of him now, making him hide when he didn't even know if he would be pursued? How to define the demon that had latched itself to a world with no logic, no science, just the judgmental thoughtless innocence of those who knew they were good? How to justify himself to the man standing in the corner, the machine he had tried to force murder on yet again? J was only a tool, Shun knew, but a tool with a mind of his own...how to appease that mind?

"Here." He handed J the voice-control device, wanting to be rid of the evidence. "Keep that."

"I feel it is my duty to inform you that I will have to arrest you once we return to Judoh for attempted murder," J replied, but he accepted the offering. "As of now, I do not have the authority to act, being outside the jurisdiction of the City Safety Management Agency."

"Don't quote me the rules, I wrote them..." Shun dug the heels of his palms into his eyes and rotated them slowly, trying to clear his head. Where was his precious self-discipline now?

"What's wrong with me?" he muttered aloud.

"You are distressed and tense. You have been so ever since we set off to rescue Daisuke."

"That's right. Daisuke..." His fist slammed down on the tub. "What is so wonderful about _Daisuke?_" If it hadn't been for Daisuke, he would never have met his mother again. He never would have had to confront whatever was currently devouring him, as it never would have taken hold. It was all Daisuke's fault.

"Daisuke," replied J, "does not allow himself to be hindered by little things, and accepts people without needing to understand them first. To put it figuratively, as many humans like to do when describing people, Daisuke is like water."

"Water." Now even the _android_ had gone mad.

"Yes, water. He rolls over obstacles and continues going, always finding a way to press on in his course. He lets slights go and does not cling to one place for long. A man cannot let the opinions and actions of others dictate his own life. He is not responsible for the world, but only for himself. And Daisuke understands that. In reaching this understanding, he is able to do more for the world than those convinced of their selflessness."

"Water." The word had taken on a more literal bent in his mind: he had realized that Baroness's cell phone had had some of her blood on it, and now his palm was smeared with red. He tried wiping the smear off on a towel but met with precious little success. Turning, Shun made a grab for the faucet but halted as the lights switched off suddenly.

"Was that you?" he asked J apprehensively.

"It was not. Someone has turned off the high-end systems. Water will return in approximately two minutes, but it will not have been purified."

"I don't care." He groped for the faucet and turned it on in preparation. As soon as he heard liquid splashing against the sink, he stuck his hand in.

_Daisuke's small curly head in front of his blocked part of his vision; his father stood outside of the car. Receding on the horizon, he could barely make out the small dot that was his mother on the departing ship. Daisuke watched in confusion but without trepidation, being at three years of age unable to imagine a life without Mother. Shun understood what his brother could not; he knew she would not return, and it made him feel..._

He yanked his hand out like the fluid had burned him as the first wisps of sedating warmth coursed up his arm. Clouds began to knot in his mind, bringing with them a sense of contentment, but he forced them back with painful self-control. What had _that_ been?

"That is not water," J reported, looking at the liquid still gushing from the tap. "Analysis produces the same sort of aura as the Celestials emanate."

"New blood..." Shun frowned at a drop on his cuff. "Leorza's on the move, then." He wondered if the others knew; had they remained on the boat waiting for Clair, most likely not. Yet if they had chased after him—what's more, if they chased after J...they themselves could fall victim without knowing it. In the dark, no one would know the difference, as his own blunder had proved.

Blunder? He frowned, pondering why he'd thought of the action as such. There had been nothing inherently foolish about the action, so why that word?

And why that memory? He avoided thinking about that day if at all possible, the mere idea of recalling it stirring up the resentment deep within him. Yes, his mother was on his mind; how could she not be? After leaving for so long, to return under such a situation?

Again he remembered the brief moment in her arms, again he wondered about it, but this time in connection to the day she had left. The new blood had brought the taboo recollection to the fore, so he might as well pick the hated thing apart and be done with it. He had always told himself that he had been angry from the beginning, but that was not the truth. That day he had felt...he had been...well, he was hurt. From the hurt had come the anger. So whence had come the hurt?

"_Phia, do you love me?" He took the gun from her fingers, held them gingerly in his own and waited for her reply. He had her close enough to fire, he knew; it would be cruel to stop her if her answer was positive; but he could not help himself. He had to know..._

"_Yes," she whispered, tears glittering in her eyes. He fired. She fell. He did not let anything register on his face, but very calmly stooped to check her vital signs. His hand had jerked upon pulling the trigger. If he got her immediate care, she would live. He had let her live, even after she had betrayed him. What a strange turn of events..._

"News reports speak of the Celestial ship having moved and a group of syndicate members laying siege to it," J announced, having time while Shun thought to check the online news. "And this very building was attacked by Daisuke and the others."

"What?" His head jerked up from the memory, the first to come to mind despite it not featuring his mother at all. "Are they still here?"

"They are gone. The telemeter is heading for the Celestial ship."

"So they know and are going to fight it..." He sighed. "What to do with you, my brother? Phia...what to do?"

"_Can I forgive others?" _his own voice echoed in reply: more ghosts from the past year. _"Can others forgive me?"_

"Does it matter?" he asked the ghosts. "If I run to help them now, they may live. Yet the deed has already been done. The new blood is spreading."

"The blockade is moving away," said J. "The reason is not yet known. But Daisuke and the others will be able to get on board."

He had not originally been angry at his mother, but hurt. He had let Phia live. Daisuke was like water...but water had been replaced in Magnagalia. Shun looked at the faucet. Could he stand to live in a world where everyone was like his mother, where no one realized how much other people depended on each other? Where no one knew they...

"_You're always so worried about Daisuke," said Phia with an impish smile, out of place on her elegant face. "But you don't want to show it."_

He drew Phia's gun and looked at it hard; her perfume wafted up to him. And gradually, as the Celestial ship of eighteen years ago set sail again in his mind, Shun Aurora, ex-dictator of Judoh, began to comprehend his duty to the people of the world.


	21. Lament, Love

**Episode 21: Lament (Love)**

Without J's access to the servers of Magnagalia, Giovanni worried at first that he and his companions would not be able to locate the water refinery until it was too late. Fortunately the news helicopters circling overhead coupled with the police barricade of the area and sheer size of the Celestial ship provided welcome landmarks.

He hadn't been able to reload his suit, pressed for time as it was, and so would be relying almost solely on more physical assaults. In his mind as he crashed down the road, scattering pedestrians and clearing the way for his friends on foot, the scenario played itself over and over in his head: they would board, and he would tie his former boss up with his suit's hidden cable, and with his life thus endangered the man would have no choice but to surrender.

It made him laugh. Like life was ever that simple.

"Hey! Stop!" Ah, the ever-vigilant forces of the Magnagalian police, come to deal with the disturbance of the peace. He didn't have time to deal with small fry.

"Miss!" he barked at Kyoko, but Daisuke beat the panting girl to it, firing stun bullets in rapid succession to clear the way. Giovanni shot a quick glance at the pink-haired young woman who had lagged on the draw: her breath was coming in haggard gasps, and her face was flushed from exertion. They'd been running too far, too fast for a girl used to a desk job. He scooped her up onto his machine's shoulder. "That better?"

"Thank you," she breathed, clutching the metal shoulder tightly. "I'm sorry to be a burden."

"Not a problem. Oi, Daisuke? Want a ride?" The Special Unit operative shook his head, reloading as he ran. "Your loss, then. We're going to have all the fun without you." Pushing down on the ignition lever, Giovanni increased his speed. Time to see what this baby could _really _do.

"That's not fair!" Daisuke called as the machine thundered out of sight. "Aw, damn..." More police arrived to take their indisposed fellows' places. "I'm in a hurry, here!" Shot after shot he fired, never once slowing his pace though his legs had started to burn; but in his hurry he forgot to look at the colors of his bullets and one shot, while fortunately missing the intended officer, exploded a car and blew off a fire hydrant.

Blue-green liquid sprayed everywhere, causing Daisuke to look behind him in shock. "Well, that's...different. Guess we're out of time."

"Not quite." Something landed in front of him, sending up clouds of dust and steam. Through the clearing fog, two tall figures offered him a hand. "A man never gives up. He rolls over his problems and keeps on going." It was not the voice Daisuke had expected.

Nonetheless he took the proffered hand. "Thanks for coming all this way to rescue me, Bro. I'm sure you had better things to do."

Shun smiled as J picked the brothers up and began running again. "Hardly, Daisuke. Now let's finish this quickly, with as little fuss as possible. I have important business to attend to later today."

Daisuke grinned. "Sounds good." He indicated J. "You two work things out?"

"The controls have been destroyed. Daisuke...can you..." He struggled with the words.

"I'm sure you had your reasons. Now get ready. Here it comes." The breach of trust stung, but what good could come of bringing that up? How he responded to his older brother's actions was his own problem.

Shun laughed derisively. "He was right. Just like water."

"Eh?"

"Later, Daisuke. As you said, our destination approaches."

"Lorenzo Leonelli confirmed," J announced, vision zooming in through a window on the Celestial ship. "I will capture him." He launched himself into the air, heading straight for the glass. Daisuke screamed a wordless protest and ducked his head as the window exploded around him, J propelling them straight through. Shun took the abuse stoically.

Straightening, J dropped both Auroras on the ground and they looked up into the terrified eyes of a third. Nona, one hand clutching her amulet in fear, stood with her back pressed up against an enormous cylindrical tank. Leorza smiled as she looked from first her newly arrived sons to their companions, standing helpless off to one side. Every inch of his being radiated victory.

For none of his attackers could do anything while Clair held a gun to Nona's heart.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Giovanni had seen his young master hold a firearm many times before, sometimes even with the barrel pointed backwards at his own temple, yet never had the sight of a gun in that pale, slender hand so frightened the bodyguard. So _this_ was his decision? To betray everyone he'd worked with for the sake of one man who refused to even treat him like a human being? To just give up? If he pulled that trigger, in Giovanni's mind the young man was no longer Vampire. He was exactly what his father had intended him to be: a puppet, a machine. Programmable. Giovanni refused to serve a machine. Before it was too late, he had to save his friend from himself.

Bluffing, he aimed the empty turret of his own gun at Leorza. "Let him go," he shouted, hoping his voice could be heard from outside the cockpit. Clair flinched, cocking his head to one side, and he realized the boy had his earbud on. Probably loudly, from the face the don was making in his direction. Wait...Clair could make faces at a time like this? What was going on?

"Vampire, I'm an idiot. What's going on?" he muttered as Leorza raised his own voice to address the man inside the machine.

"Giovanni. I'm ashamed of you, turning traitor on those who can help you most. And you won't even come out and meet me face-to-face? You always had such great eyes, Giovanni. Hungry for more, but never to be satisfied. It was for people with eyes like yours that I..."

So he wanted to look him in the eyes, did he? He really wanted to see what the stray he picked up years ago thought of him? "You're wrong, old man." He dismounted from the suit, reached into his jacket for his handgun. Slowly, deliberately, he slid the bullets into it. "I promised to protect Clair from anyone who dared to hurt him. I didn't know then that the biggest threat was always right in front of me." Giovanni kept moving, circling Leorza, letting him watch as one by one, he dropped the pellets into the weapon.

Behind the bodyguard, Nona gave a small whimper as Clair touched the gun to her chest, snaking it under her amulet's chain. The young man's mouth barely moved, but the earbud was on loudly enough for Giovanni to hear him. "_Take him out, Giovanni." _The voice was a corpse's—devoid of life and hope._ "Now."_

"You set your own father up?" Giovanni asked in a returning mutter, leveling his gun at Leorza's chest. The man frowned.

"_Just do it!" _Clair snapped more loudly than he'd intended; Leorza whipped around, catching his son in the act of switching off the bud with his one free hand. "Clair!" he cried. Taking advantage of his enemy's distraction, Giovanni fired.

His aim was wide, bullet sticking into the tank of new blood. Beads of liquid began to peek out from the weak spot. Staring maddened for a moment, Leorza grabbed the gun from Clair's startled hands and, as J knocked Giovanni to the side in anticipation of the enemy's next move, shot the man from the slums to whom he had given new life.

Suddenly out of his left eye Giovanni could only see red; his right eye's vision was obstructed by the android pushing him to the ground. "Thanks a lot, old man," he grunted, hitting the ground and grabbing his left temple. Dammit...just a graze, but still...damn head wounds always bled like hell.

Out of his one good eye he saw Leorza pull the bullet out of the tank and force Clair's head under the stream of liquid pouring out, gun between the young man's shoulderblades. No...he wouldn't let...not Clair...But moving hurt. Moving his head hurt so, so much.

Resting the injured side on the cool metal floor, Giovanni focused on just staying conscious. It didn't work. He was out in seconds.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

"Mother!" While Daisuke and J ran to extract Clair from the spurt of new blood, Shun caught his mother as her knees gave out and she slid to the ground. "Mother, are you..."

"He told me not to be scared," she breathed. "That he wouldn't do it. But I didn't believe him, Shun! I've never believed him!" Bursting into tears, she grabbed onto her son. "Never! And I didn't know it until he made his own son...who does that to their children?"

"Hush. Hush. Mother." He took her by the chin, lifted her head and wiped away her tears with a hand still streaked with Trinity's blood. "It's going to be all right."

"But I _helped_ him! I turned off the..."

"Mother. We all misjudge people. We all make mistakes. But the world keeps turning, and we have to turn with it, accepting what's happened so we can move on." He smoothed out her long blonde hair, hair so like his own. "And sometimes...learning that hurts."

"Shun..." Her arms encircled him. "Shun, am I a bad mother?"

He swallowed. "Yes," he replied. "You are. But that doesn't give me the right to be a bad son. Even though I may...hate you...because you hurt me, there must have been love there for the hurt to set in so deep."

"You still love me, Shun?" Her hand felt something cold and hard hidden in his vest pocket; she drew it out with trembling fingers and breathed in the perfume wafting from it. "Even though I've been a...bad mother?"

The scent reached him too; Phia smiled at him in his mind as he held his mother close. "Yes, Mother. I always have."

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Clair gasped and sputtered under the new blood soaking his black head, making the blue hair dye on his bangs run and drip. Holding the young man's head down, Leorza cursed to himself as the black-coated machine stomped over and pinned him against the tank with one arm. Clair collapsed into Daisuke Aurora's arms, contented smile once more in place as the other young man led him to safety behind the abandoned robotic suit. If nothing else...at least perhaps Leorza had saved his son from this awful world. He had given his child what he would never attain. Wasn't that a parent's duty?

The gun would be ineffectual against the machine trying to subdue him, but Leorza had other tricks. His legs giving out as the machine swung a punch, he wrested his arm free and rolled away as the rest of the tank exploded onto the android, whose systems froze upon the new blood's overstimulating touch. Standing and wincing as his back twinged—really, such acrobatics should have been beyond him at this point—Leorza aimed his gun at the blond young man climbing up onto the suit; the pink-haired woman and his son were already on top of it.

Then the loosed wave of new blood hit him, knocking him off his feet. Falling down into the liquid, he felt the effects almost immediately—he heard again Nona's refusal to come with him when first he had left the Celestials, he felt again his mother's touch—but he forced his eyes to remain on his enemy. He felt the clouds come rolling into his mind to smooth it all out, but he swept them away. He didn't want happiness now! He wanted—he needed--

"Sad, isn't it?" asked Daisuke as Leorza felt himself begin to slip away. "You work so hard to drown the world in that stuff but you don't want it for yourself?"

"I do," he tried to gasp, tried to aim the gun; but aiming a gun was a silly thing to do. Something somewhere had hurt him, and that was bad; but it was much easier to make believe the hurt had never happened than to eliminate the source of the hurt. He would not be hurt anymore...he was happy...

No, he was miserable when he should have been happy! He had a mind and a soul of his own, and he wanted to keep them! He didn't _want_ release forever! Forever was so much longer than he'd thought...

The new blood was receding, spreading out, leaving only a slick on the floor. Nona...Nona would save him. He had done it all so Nona would not hurt him anymore...so if Nona saved him then he would have won...he did not want her to be special, but she was, and some part of him wanted that specialness to stay.

"Nona!" Leorza gasped, but someone else was holding her, keeping her from him. Rage filled him, and he raised the gun again, aimed at the man holding Nona close to him. Eliminate the evil. Blot it out. Be happy. With Nona and his son, his son whom he had saved. Forever.

The shot rang out. The man crumpled to the floor. And Clair, even through the swimming haze of the new blood, screamed until his throat was hoarse.

"_Papa!"_

o0o0oo0o0o0o0o0

Nona dropped the gun and fell back into Shun's hold; both of them lay together, new blood washing over and through their systems. They had stemmed the tide long enough and now surrendered, knowing when they woke—if they woke—they would have to slog their way through new lives. Yet as they gave in, and as Kyoko and Daisuke gingerly picked their way to J to see if they could start him back up, Clair woke. Blue-green drops still fell from his bangs, still speckled his shirt; but in his heart there was no room for contentment. He dropped down off the suit and fell to his knees at the fallen man's side; next to him, a soaked Giovanni woke and watched, though in his addled state he could not understand.

"Papa.." Brokenly he hauled the old man into his lap. "Papa, I didn't mean for...I never really wanted..."

His father smiled up at him, crimson flowers spreading across his chest. "My...beloved son. You never told me...about my funeral. Did they follow my will?"

"Only the family was there, Papa," Clair reassured him, the words spilling numbly from his lips. "Just like you wanted. It was...it was really beautiful." He smiled weakly. "You should see the tombstone. I picked it myself. With Mauro's help."

"How is Mauro? I missed him..."

"He hasn't changed." This was all wrong. This could not be happening. And, if it were, this was not how it was supposed to be. He stroked the old man's cheek. "Papa...I can't do this again. Don't go...please. I'm not ready. Don't do this. Don't pretend, either. Just...just.." What did he want the man to do? He didn't know. He wasn't thinking. He was just fighting his way through the endless river of dread threatening to close over his head even more than the new blood had. "I'm not ready! You can't do this to me again!"

Thinking over the last time, inspiration struck. He pulled out his last grenade. "You and I, Papa! We'll go together!" A flash of light, and then nothing...that might be nice...he thought his father had wanted something similar, once...some release...

"You're ready." Leorza laid his son's hand over the wound, over the heart beating itself empty. "You have the blood of Vampire in your veins. Put your toys away and live, Clair. Be happy."

Happy? He looked with new eyes at the thing in his hand. Laughter forced its way out of his mouth, but it rang small and pitiful and far away in his ears. "Look, Papa. I brought fireworks to your funeral too. To make it really...really special..." He choked. "Because you were really special too...to everybody...did you see them?"

But the old man wasn't listening any more, wasn't looking at the object his son was waving in front of his wide, staring eyes. Realizing he was only talking to himself, the young man pounded the old one's chest in rage. How dare he stop listening, just when...he'd never get an answer now... "Go to hell, old man!" he cried, throwing the hateful grenade across the room and curling up around the body in his lap. "Go to hell...and leave me alone..."

"Vampire." Warm arms closed around him, dragged him off the body; he clawed like a possessed animal at whoever held him. "Vampire...you're all right...I'm so glad..."

"Let go, Giovanni." He had no energy left with which to back up his statement. "Let go. Papa's gone."

"But you're safe." The man smiled at him through a slick of red down the side of his face. "That's all that matters."

Clair's eyes closed, his head drooped against Giovanni's body. With the onset of his mental shutdown, the new blood continued its spread through his system. Smiling, he settled down and gave in.

"_We are gathered here today to mourn the loss of one of Judoh's finest citizens..."_

_He slouched in the pew, not caring enough to sit upright. On either side of him, Giovanni and Mitchal shared anxious glances over his hair before staring straight ahead the way they had been instructed. Ian fidgeted, also nervous. Clair absorbed himself in a detailed study of the whorls in the wooden pew in front of him. In and out the lines swirled around his brain, making all other life unreal. _

"_...gathered here, we the few he honored with the title 'family' do him one last honor..."_

"_One last honor." His lips formed the word around the ring, he thought again of the present in his pocket. No matter where his father had gone, he would be sure to see Clair if the young man made a big enough display. In his father's honor, of course. It was his duty as a son._

"_...Lorenzo Leonelli, to whom many of us owe our fortunate lives, the forger of peace and prosperity in Judoh."_

o0o0o0o0o0

The floor of the Celestial ship was slick to the touch with fluid. Daisuke and Kyoko shared a nervous glance over the fallen bodies of their comrades. It was too early to tell if they'd ingested enough new blood to suffer permanent effects, but for the time being everyone but the two of them had been good as incapacitated, to say nothing of Giovanni's head wound. They had defeated their opponent, but at what cost to themselves?

"I guess we'll bury him in the same coffin as before," Daisuke said, nudging the corpse of the man known for years as Lorenzo Leonelli with his boot. "Clair will probably want that."

"We have a more urgent problem," Kyoko objected.

He turned to her. "What?" She pointed. "...Oh."

In the wake of the battle, he had forgotten that there had been more than one holding tank for the new blood. The snaking cables still pumped gallon after pulsing gallon of the stuff to the unsuspecting citizens of Magnagalia, showing no signs of letting up.

Daisuke clicked his tongue against his teeth and nodded. "That's not good."


	22. Restart, Machine

**Episode 22: Restart (Machine)**

Three. Eleven. Seven. Nine. Six.

Over and over again, Monica rolled the pair of purple dice restlessly across the cabin floor, noting the resultant sums without much interest. All around her, the Celestials bunched together, uncertain what to do in the face of the large barricade of men and weaponry set up on the outside dock. Since the arrival of reinforcements, the attackers had called a cease-fire of sorts as they conversed in frantic tones amongst each other. Until they decided what to do, Monica planned on waiting the scene out. But if they fired...she would fire.

Two. Twelve. Eight. Five. Seven.

"What are they doing?" one Celestial finally asked.

"I don't know."

"The ocean is restless. Something is amiss." Frowning, the other Celestials closed their eyes and tried to connect with whatever their companion had sensed. Then, as one, they reeled.

"The high-end system has been shut down!"

"Who could possibly...?"

"I recognize that pattern. It is Nona."

Three. Four. _Clatter_. The dice fell uncounted from her fingers. "Nona?" she asked. "Isn't that Daisuke's mom?"

They nodded. She snorted. "Jeez...can't trust anybody these days." Risking a glance outside through the cabin porthole, she watched as the lights all over the city flicked off. Seeing the city go dark like that made her shiver. She couldn't imagine a life without power, a life without lights. And Judoh had nearly met that same fate a year ago? How scary. But on the bright side, this unforeseen disaster would probably distract whoever was waiting outside to kill them...

The men running around, sure enough, looked up in fear at the darkened skyline. Instantly hands pulled out phones, numbers were dialed, friends supposedly were contacted for information about the electricity failure. Then, as one, they removed the devices from against their ears and frowned. None of their phones worked either? Monica wondered.

The Celestials staggered collectively again, and Monica sighed. "What now?"

"The new blood tanks!"

"Why have they been opened?"

"You can _tell_?" she asked incredulously.

They shot her a glance which plainly expressed their surprise at her inanity. "Of course," one replied, a bit befuddled. "New blood calls to new blood. Great quantities flowing forth...we feel it coursing through us, as well. You humans really are simple."

"Well, excuse me!" she huffed; outside, the men in the blockade seemed to have reached a consensus and drew their weapons. Monica swore so ferociously that even some of the Celestials, ignorant of the meaning of the terms and the innate wrongness of such vulgarities when placed in a small girl's mouth, stepped back in shock anyway. Then, as the first bullets pinged against the sides of the boat, they began to hold an impromptu conference of their own.

"But we must close the tanks!"

"Could they have caused the power failure?"

"The new blood is flowing through the water refinery!"

"But that's...we must stop that!" One of the Celestials approached Monica in a state that in a less dignified being she would have called 'panic.' "This ship...it can still move, can it not?"

"The others are waiting for us here," she pointed out flatly. "We have a gun. We're fine."

"But the ship still runs?"

"Yes, of course it runs!" she snapped. "We wouldn't be hiding out in a broken boat! We came in the thing only a couple of days ago! What is your point??"

But some of the Celestials had already left the cabin, and the first few major explosions rocked the side of the yacht: somebody with Red Tabs had shown up. Grenades and worse would likely be next. They weren't concerned with forcing Monica and her companions into the open anymore. They'd decided to just sink the entire vessel.

As the girl pondered these unpleasant truths, the boat revved unexpectedly, knocking Monica clear off her feet and sending the dice skittering across the floor. The Celestials bore the turbulence stoically, faces unusually stern for such a flighty bunch. Daisuke hadn't described the ones he'd met as being quite so dippy, Monica groused to herself. It figured she'd get stuck with the dregs of the species.

Tearing through the waves at the speed for which it had been chosen by the rescue team, the battered but still fully functional Vita yacht soon approached the larger Celestial one, now located just outside a large factoryesque building near the shore. Huge tubes connected the sitting ship to the water plant. The Celestials muttered and frowned and shook their heads in disapproval: upon seeing the situation, their prospects seemed suddenly bleaker. Monica groaned too, but for quite a different reason. They'd escaped from the lawless only to run smack into the law. Police cars surrounded the entire area.

"_To the approaching unidentified vehicle,"_ someone on shore hollered into a bullhorn._ "Please stop your boat. I repeat, in the name of the law, stop your..."_

The yacht stopped. Monica let out another agitated groan and scooped up the fallen dice, tucking them into the purse around her neck. So this was it. In the middle of a conflict she barely understood, after days of running around and thousands of unforeseen complications, she was going to be picked up for another attempt at boarding the Celestial vessel and tried as an illegal alien. Most likely, she would get into even more trouble for associating with the Celestials themselves. She didn't trust her guests to tell the story cohesively.

Dragging her small body up the short flight of stairs to the deck, she stopped at the door. All seventeen Celestials stood on deck, radiating power and authority; the police squad on shore stared up in awe and terror. Some fell to their knees. "F-forgive us..." one stammered. "You are unhurt?"

"We are." One Celestial stepped forward to act as spokesman. "But the true difficulty lies there, on board our ship."

"We dared not see what you were doing to the plant—we saw some of your kind and thought this was sanctioned—what is going on?" She saw a new kind of fear settle onto the officers below. "What's going to happen to us?"

"We must board and discover what has occurred. From there we will take the appropriate action. Withdraw. This is our difficulty, not yours. But..." The Celestial's shoulders sagged. "Remain standing by for further instruction."

"Y-yes, sir. I mean Lord. I mean Master. I mean--"

"Please, depart."

"Of course!"

One of the Celestials closest to where Monica stood turned to her as a small group linked hands, closed their eyes. "We shall return shortly."

She stared unabashed up at the tall man, flung her words almost like a challenge. "I'm going with you."

"There is no reason for you to..."

She pointed. One of the large windows on the vessel, while too high up to look into properly, had shattered. "J did that. That's his style." There was no doubt in her voice.

"We cannot take you." As if to prove his point, the group behind him vanished. "Most of us cannot even travel by the new blood as it is, and definitely not with a passenger."

But—but—Monica couldn't even think straight for frustration. She could very clearly remember a time, not so long ago, when she had sat in the East Wind and listened to a radio report, which in turn sparked a very ambitious but nonetheless clear-cut plan. Where had that plan gone now?

Several tiny figures came into view on the deck of the Celestial ship; squinting, she recognized a pair. "Jeez!" she scolded Daisuke and Kyoko as they came out onto the deck of the Celestial vessel, flanked by Celestials carrying the inert bodies of Nona, Shun, Giovanni, and Clair. "What did you people _do?"_

o0o0o0o0o0o

The cluster of white-robed figures lifted their amulets high in the darkened room; before them, the golden dynamos slowly glowed and began again, restoring light to their surroundings. Already the cables had been removed, the new blood tanks closed off once more. When next the citizens of Magnagalia turned on their faucets and showers, everyday water would pour forth. All had very simply, very cleanly been made well again.

Yet even the blindly optimistic group had to concede that some difficulties needed to be confronted. Though they still could not quite grasp, nor desired to grasp, the full implications and motives behind the aggressor's actions, they could not and would not ignore their duty to the people affected. The new blood was their prize, their blessing, and they had a responsibility to those who had been unwittingly sainted. Though it might take weeks or even months to comb the society and find all those who might need assistance acclimating, they would serve the people the way their original leader had intended. Her son was a fluke, a once-in-a-lifetime freak accident. But the evil had been wiped clean and the fluke smoothed back into the shadows.

Once more, the city was safe.

o0o0o0o0o0o

Sitting on the deck of the Vita yacht, the winds of travel whipping back her frazzled blue hair, Usagi tied the bandage tight around the diamond tattoos on her adoptive brother's arm. "I did not think you would be hit at all," she informed him, smiling shyly. "But I am glad the wound was minor. You should have let the Celestials look at it. They were able to heal Giovanni."

"I let myself be hit. I must bear the consequence. Usagi." Boma touched her cheek tenderly, though his holographic mask remained impassive as ever. "You are a Celestial as well. Are you certain you do not wish to go with them? We can still turn around and return."

"Some of the affected from Magnagalia are with them now. I do not wish to remember anything about that city." Her eyes glowed with genuine warmth. "I want to start again in Judoh. With you."

"You two are _disgusting_," Monica sneered on her way to the cabins, camera full of film just waiting to be developed held tightly in her hands. "Can you be any more sappy? Jeez!"

"She cannot help it. The beast master's imprinting instinct remains despite the Celestial disconnect," Boma pointed out, but his protest fell on deaf ears as the girl descended.

She passed Shun on the stairs, brief as they were. "Don't listen to the couple," she warned him as he emerged into the bright sunlight. "It's sick."

"Boma is like a brother to me," Usagi protested. "We are not a couple."

"That's what they all say, and it makes it sicker," Monica replied, her voice drifting up. Shun shook his head slightly and, crossing the deck, ducked into the captain's quarters.

"I lied to Daisuke earlier," he admitted, closing the door behind him to talk to J in private. "I told him we had destroyed the controller."

"I remember the event. I let the inaccuracy slide due to the emergency situation under which we were operating. Do you wish for it to be destroyed now?" J drew the small device out from his coat pocket.

"You'd give it back to me?" Shun asked, almost wryly. "After everything I've made you do with it?"

"A machine does not hold a grudge. That is a purely human instinct."

"That must be pleasant." Shun wandered over to the control panel for the yacht, watched the dials with absent disinterest. "Mother is spending most of her time with Daisuke."

"A lifetime of avoiding sad or troubling thoughts, coupled with particular stress in your presence due to both your and her past actions. Thus, her behavior is an understandable impulse on her part." J adjusted a knob. "Jealousy is also something only humans feel."

He did not respond to the implication or attempt to deny it; it was true, and he was tired of creating new truths for himself. "What's it like to not feel anything? Like a Celestial?" Shun adjusted his glasses. "What would it have been like for all of us if Leorza had succeeded?"

"That cannot be estimated. But the probability is very high that it would not, as he surmised, bring happiness to the entire planet. He himself was an example of why. For those in whom the new blood was weak, a great chance exists that they would have found themselves alone and, in their loneliness, vent through destruction or domination. The gullible citizens would fall easily." J frowned beneath his brimmed hat. "As for your first question, I cannot answer it. Machines do not know what feeling is like, and what cannot be comprehended cannot be analyzed."

"Hence why everyone who knows how to comprehend spends all their time running away." Shun accepted the control device from its puppet and tapped it on his palm thoughtfully. "We're not so different from the Celestials, are we? The normal humans?" Having this conversation with anyone else would have been absurd and embarrassing, but somehow he felt totally at ease conversing with J. Perhaps _because_ he was a machine..._because_ he could not take offense or suspect...but a world full of only machines would also be somehow empty.

"Some are not. But a real man faces the problems in his life head-on and takes them as they come, never letting them drag him down."

"I wonder that you've ever found someone you believe qualifies for your definition of manliness," Shun mused critically. "It seems almost unattainable."

"That is a fallacy. You yourself, Shun Aurora, are a real man." J turned the wheel slightly. "You have suffered, and you have fallen, but you are still standing. _That_ is the true mark of a man."

Stunned, Shun backed to the door; there was nothing he could say after such a statement. "Thank—thank you, J." He had never bothered to thank the machine for anything before.

"A man also does not expect gratitude," replied the android, staring straight ahead. Then he turned his head as Shun left and smiled. "But, when it is offered, he is grateful in turn."

Shun shut the door and turned around; he could feel a smile spreading across his face, no matter how much he told himself not to be too pleased, that the compliment had no real sentiment behind it. He could not help it. For the first time in months, maybe even years, he was content.

"Heya, Bro. What's up?" Daisuke sauntered out of the kitchen, then noticed the device in Shun's hands and frowned. "I thought you..."

"J called me a man, Daisuke." He threw the device as far as he could and watched it splash down. It did not reappear.

"So the hair didn't fool him?" Daisuke grinned to show he knew what the older man had meant despite his jibe. "Congrats, Bro."

"Thank you." The brothers stood at the railing together, watching the sea. Slowly, hesitantly, Shun reached out to wrap his arm around Daisuke's shoulders. His hand touched down, and he breathed out slowly: why had he always thought such things so difficult? He could do this...really, he could. He could start again. People believed in him, and thus he could believe in himself. It would be hard, it would be strange, but he was resolved to really _try_ this time.

Daisuke slung a returning arm around Shun wordlessly. Real men did not need words to express themselves.

o0o0o0o0o0o

Lying on the bed adjacent to the master bedroom, arms crossed underneath his head, Clair stared at the ceiling pensively. Feeling his lower lip with his tongue, he could tell the hole was already beginning to close from disuse. Most likely, he would have to get it re-pierced. What a pain.

He rolled onto his side and stared through the open doorway to where Giovanni lay resting on the large bed. Though the Celestials had managed, thanks to their ever-stressed "connection" to the natural world, to stem the flow of blood from the man's temple, the bodyguard was still weak from the blood lost and would need to be taken care of until he fully recuperated. Thus, the don found himself serving, and the servant became dependent on his master. Clair poured his energies into the task with zeal; it helped distract him from the new burden in the cargo hold, traveling to its already-prepared final resting place in an unmarked coffin.

He had tried without success to scratch the word "Vampire" into the wooden surface with a knife from the kitchen, but Nona had found him at the task and relieved him of the object with barely the "V" in place. He still didn't quite understand why she had insisted on joining them on their return trip to Judoh when her people were remaining in Magnagalia to help deal with those affected by the new blood's brief venture through the water pipes. A faction, it was rumored, were also daring to go beyond their area of comfort and aid the police in stemming the violence that had erupted in the city in the wake of the syndicate leader's mysterious death. An escaped convict from years ago, already altered to have a black wolf's face and crimson eyes, had been blamed for the crime due to his presence on the scene and his possession of a sword at the time; but he had vanished after fending off attackers, taking with him Baroness's most trusted servant, known only as "Wolf's Prize." "Wolf" himself had apparently taken the bait—and, what was more, gotten away with it. No one in the city had seen him since.

The group had left Magnagalia two days earlier, disappearing at dawn so as to avoid being discovered for the illegal immigrants that they technically were. Clair had only fully woken halfway through the first day, his system having eventually rejected the new blood. He supposed, in some ironic twist, he had his father to thank for that. Weren't his genes ill-suited for the modification as well? It only went to prove that everything his father had chased was an impossible dream...that, even with the promises the new blood offered, the human race could never all be happy, with their limitless desires erased.

Thinking of his father now, even with his behavior towards the coffin, Clair felt strangely at peace. Lorenzo Leonelli had, after all, passed away over a year ago. Why should his son continue to mourn? This new element, this Leorza, was _not_ the man who had raised Clair. The two extremes had detached somewhere during his bout with the new blood and could not yet recombine in his mind, but the warping was somewhat of a blessing. "Leorza" became something to be detested, an unspoken betrayal that had nearly broken the young don in two. Yet Leorza had also, finally, freed Clair from the cage into which Lorenzo Leonelli had thrust him. No longer did Clair feel like he had to live up to anything. He was just himself. And that would have to be enough.

He had known that for years...had feared it, even. But only now did he perceive his own limitations as not a weight dragging him down but rather something lifting him towards the sky. For now, freed from others' expectations, he could call his actions wholly his own. Clair had always been an intensely personal and possessive individual. He enjoyed the new freedom, but vowed not to become too intoxicated with it the way he had early in his reign as Vampire where he had overexerted his new powers and paid the price. Vampire had to think about the family first, not his own personal strength. Because the family was _his._ His own, that he would not let anyone steal from him. His greatest, most liberating responsibility.

One part of that responsibility groaned, waking in the next room, and Clair swung his own body out of bed to see if the man needed anything. "Hey, Giovanni."

"Vampire," the bodyguard acknowledged, blinking and wincing. "Damn, it's bright..."

Clair shut off the lights and drew the curtains around the bed. "Better?" he asked awkwardly, unaccustomed to his new role but determined to perform it with aplomb. Even if, as he planned to enforce, no one else would ever hear about it.

The man grunted. "Yeah...dammit, I hate this." He grinned. "I feel like such a baby."

"And you need your sleep, Mr. Baby," Clair reminded him. "If you don't need anything, keep napping."

"Don't you dare start calling me that."

"Do you want a pacifier, Mr. Baby?" Lifting an eyebrow, Clair held up a grenade from the backpack of weapons and supplies still lying where Nona had dropped it upon depositing the unconscious Giovanni on the bed two days before. "Because if you don't, you better stop babbling. I don't put up with baby talk."

"Aw, man. You put _more_ in there?" Giovanni shut his eyes. "Jeez."

"'My beloved son, always be prepared for everything.'" Halfway through the quote, Clair's face fell. No matter how casual, how personal he forced himself to be, there were some lines he was not yet ready to cross and should not have tried to defy.

Giovanni sensed the breach as well. "Vampire..."

"I'm fine, Giovanni," Clair insisted, and he meant it. One way or another, he would carry on. "You don't...need anything?"

"Just a new head. Damn." The cuss was provoked by the advent of Shun Aurora, come to deliver news from the deck.

"J says we'll be back in Judoh by tomorrow evening, though then what we're going to do is..." Breaking off, he frowned. "What is that sound?"

'That sound' was coming from Giovanni's jacket, slung on a chair next to the pack. Pulling out the man's cell phone, Clair's eyebrows rose again as he glanced at the number before passing the phone over to its owner. "Mauro."

"So we've started getting reception...hey. What's up?" He put the receiver to his right ear. "Yeah, yeah, we're all okay...we even saved the kid...what? He's still in one piece, don't have a heart attack, he's doing great...what? Oh. Sure." He handed the phone back to Clair. "It's for you."

Clair accepted it. "It's me." He listened to the frantic voice on the other end and frowned authoritatively. "I don't have to tell you that. What? Oh, good. What is it?...I see." He laughed. "That's brilliant, Mauro. No, I don't mind the losses. We can make them back up. Are you ready? All right." He cleared his throat. When he began speaking again, Shun and Giovanni exchanged a very confused, very concerned glance.

"Hello, Mr. Chief of Detectives Edmundo. This is Vampire, of Company Vita. By now I'm sure you're tired of combing the streets looking for our beloved dictator, so I'll let you in on a little secret since we're such good friends. I've got him. That's right, from the very beginning. I think this city's been too lenient on him. He doesn't even deserve to comb through the trash; he _is_ trash, and should thus be thrown away. So if you don't dig up some dirt and make sure that my man gets the Senate position in next month's elections, Dictator Aurora will die. Horribly. The people will not stand for such crimes against themselves, even if the government believes in dealing lightly with traitors. The people do not forgive. And I'm just their loyal spokesman." Grinning sadistically, he switched the phone off.

Both Shun and Giovanni stared at him as he set the phone in his lap; he met their stares blankly, then couldn't maintain the poker face and started snickering again. "Mauro has a plan for excusing all our absences. And it's going to be a lot of fun." He smiled at Shun. "For everyone. Now, first we tie you to a chair, Dictator Aurora, and then we pretend to have a power failure so that your little brother..."


	23. Happiness, Life

**Episode 23: Happiness (Life)**

Slowly the elevator ground to a halt; the doors slid open onto the darkened hallway. Putting on his sunglasses and drawing his gun, the young man jumped out and almost immediately faced gunfire from all angles. Somersaulting out of the way, he recovered from the acrobatics and fired off shots of his own. One by one his assailants fell, but even when the hallway was cleared of movement he knew he had no more time to waste. Reloading his gun with blue-tipped bullets, the young man switched on the nearly invisible earbud nestled underneath his blond curls.

"You there?"

"I await your signal. He is in the main office."

"They always take the hostages there, eh?" the young man wondered, smiling to himself. "Damn mob names their leader 'Vampire' but can't think of a more original place to store prisoners. Jeez."

"The current don is actually known for his unorthodox creativity."

"I know, I know...Hold on." More armed men in sunglasses and suits charged him as he rounded a corner. He disposed of the problem without much difficulty, then turned his attention back to the voice in his ear. "You were saying?"

"Your signal is heading in the wrong direction. You should have taken a left at the last intersection, according to the map in the server."

"It's not my fault; all these big green hallways look the same..." Nonetheless he turned and sauntered back the way he came. "Take a left?"

"Yes. It will be the third door on your right."

"I remember now." The young man paused outside the referenced door, lifted a foot to kick it open; then, reconsidering, he knocked with the back of his fist first before sending the kick plowing into the wood. "Got in trouble last time for not doing that..." he mused as the door banged open, then very calmly sauntered in.

The man tied to a chair behind the desk looked up hopefully at the sound of the door being forced open, but could not speak due to the gag around his mouth and dared not move for the intricate web of ropes pinning him in place, just loose enough to allow him to breathe if he remained very, very still. His eyes, however, landed on the young man and lit up.

"Heya, Bro," the young man said, flipping open a pocketknife and starting to work on the ropes. "How they been treating you?"

"Oi, kid!" A black-haired man with a bandage tied around his forehead jumped out from the side doorway, rifle in hand. Gunfire peppered the desk, broke the window behind it. The young man flung himself down on the plush carpet, knocking the chair over so the prisoner would fall to cover as well.

Crouching behind the desk, he finished severing the ropes and pulled them off. "Can you stand?"Removing the gag, the older man nodded. Both climbed to their feet...then raised their hands as fifteen barrels of fifteen guns stared at them with great leaden eyes.

"Game over," commented the boy lounging in the side doorway, toying absently with the ring thrust through his slightly swollen lower lip. "That was stupid of you, thinking you could get him out of here alive. Now I have _two_ prisoners to play with." Smirking, he snickered to himself. "Take them both away." An elderly gentleman emerged from the door, staring almost mournfully at the pair over round, darkened glasses, and opened up a pair of handcuffs.

"Aand...now," said the young man as the cuffs closed over his wrists.

"Roger," said the voice in the earbud, and the window behind the pair shattered. Standing amidst the rubble, adjusting his black brimmed hat, was a tall, broad grizzled man in a black trenchcoat. The armed, suited men fired, but their shots bounced harmlessly off.

Taking advantage of their enemies' preoccupation, the pair of blond young men leapt into action. Whirling and dodging, they punched and kicked their way through the room until only the man with the bandage, the old man, and the boy in the doorway were left standing.

The boy glared at them as the tall man picked up his two companions. "This isn't over," he threatened, even as they headed for the open window.

"Really?" asked the young man in the sunglasses; taking them off, he winked. "Till next time, then." The man in the trenchcoat jumped, and they plummeted down.

They landed, hard, to a brilliant flash and the sound of a button clicking. The sight and sound continued as the two men dropped from their larger friend's hold (a friend who had started to emit great quantities of steam from his sleeves and collar) and did not halt until a long-haired woman, waiting worriedly inside a police car down the street, ran out and hugged both of the men tightly. "You're safe...you're both safe..." she murmured into their necks, smiling radiantly. "I can't believe it..."

"Hey, this is my job, Mom," said the young man as the news chopper overhead swooped down for a better look at the reunion and the little girl who had caused the flashing and clicking reloaded her camera. "I do this stuff every day."

o0o0o0o0o0o

"_...though the perpetrators of the deed were let off due to technicalities, the citizens of Judoh should indeed be glad that Special Unit operative Daisuke Aurora returned early from his sabbatical to the other cities, and that such unfortunate incidents as this past week's secret kidnapping of convict and former General Manager Shun Aurora should decline with his homecoming," _finished the reporter on the television, shuffling her papers into a neat stack once more. _"That concludes our broadcast for this evening. As always, thank you for watching."_

"You hear that, Operative?" Clair asked, switching off the television as Giovanni and Daisuke clinked soda cans behind him, the latter spilling potato chips all over Shogun's basement floor as the bag on his lap fell. Next to the young don, Monica continued sorting her day's earnings into neat piles, counting and recounting to make sure it was all there with an enormously satisfied grin on her face. "Saving you counts as an unfortunate incident."

Daisuke took a long pull from his soda. "Only for Bro. Jeez, did you have to tie the ropes so damn _tight_?"

Clair shrugged as Shun, throat red and sore in places, nodded his agreement as Phia applied hydrogen peroxide to one of the chafed areas before covering it with a small adhesive bandage. "I wanted it to be realistic. Giovanni did the actual tying." The bodyguard shot his employer a glare, but with his mouth full of chips the intensity of the expression suffered.

"No rope was actually necessary," Boma pointed out from where he stood in the corner, observing the festivities. "The media could not see inside the building. No, Usagi, that is spicy. Do not eat that." The girl put the pepper down, lips already red from failed experiments.

Clair snorted. "Like he'd emerge from a week captive without rope burn!"

"Like having a prisoner would keep you wholly occupied for a week," Kyoko countered, stooping to pick up the chips Daisuke had dropped. Shogun had been kind enough to let the motley group celebrate in his basement, and she was not about to let the room become dirty.

Nona lifted her soda can, more than slightly affected by the caffeine after nearly two decades without it. "A toast. To the rescue team!"

"Which one?" asked Usagi as everyone else lifted their cans and drank; they all stared at her blankly and, shaking their heads, returned to their individual conversations. She shook her head in imitation, slowly acclimating herself to the new society in which she found herself. It was strange, falling asleep without fear or dreams, but a good sort of strange. Usagi fancied that in this new place, with these new and different people, she would indeed find happiness.

"Hey, Dai!" The ladder to the basement creaked and groaned with the added weight of three very eager young women, each carrying a bag bulging with cans and bottles. Daisuke let himself be swarmed by the trio, sheepishly impressed by the attention. "Shogun told us you were all meeting here! How are you? We heard a rumor something was wrong in Magnagalia! Are you all right? We brought beer!"

"Perfect," Daisuke grumbled, looking at his mother, who seemed perfectly capable of becoming tipsy on soda alone. "Just what this party needs."

But they were already distracted. "Hey, Monica! That's a lot of money! How did you sell so many already??"

Scooping up the coins and bills, the girl smiled; something purple flashed between her fingers. "I'm lucky."

"What the--" Clair sputtered into his drink. "Giovanni! You gave her the—Give me those back! They're mine!" He made an ill-fated grab for the child's hand that nearly sent him out of his chair; the three girls tittered at the young don, and he glared at them. "It's not funny! Giovanni, I can't believe you--"

"What can I say? Guess I'm just a sucker for a pretty face." Giovanni sighed. "Sorry, Vampire. Hand them over, little lady. I _said_ they were a loan."

Clenching her small fist over the dice, Monica pouted and shook her head. "I don't think so. Did you see how many people wanted pictures of Dai and Shun landing? I _never_ have a line that long! These _work_! If you want them back, you'll have to pay!"

Sighing, Clair pulled out his checkbook; Giovanni provided a pen. "Fine. How much?"

"One hundred." He began to scribble. "Each." Clair put down the pen and gave her a look that would have melted a glacier. Snorting voicelessly through her nose, Monica turned her head away and dropped the dice, stonily, into Clair's hand. He shoved them into his pocket immediately.

"Thank y--" He stared at the empty spot on the table: she had swiped his checkbook.

Looking away from the ensuing chaos and trying to block out the harpy cries of a Vampire scorned, Shun scooted over to give Phia more room for her chair. "I'm sorry I took so long," he told her softly, taking her hand. "I didn't want--"

She shook her head. "Don't, Shun. It's all right."

"I missed you, Phia." His green eyes held her blue ones. "Every minute."

"Shun..." She leaned closer.

Nona wandered over and interrupted. "Shun, where's Daisuke?"

He looked up, irritated: _damn _his mother! "What are you talking about? He's right..." But the young man had vanished. Shun frowned. "Phia, I'll be right back." Standing, he climbed the ladder with Kyoko following, having overheard the Celestial's query.

They emerged into the East Wind and met with three other confused faces. "Go on down," Shun told Edmundo, Mauro, and Monica's mother. "But did Daisuke come up?"

"He just left. Said he needed a walk." Edmundo swung his legs onto the ladder. "Everything all right?"

Shun smiled. "It's all fine. Thank you so much for your help." Looking away in embarrassment, the detective grunted, then descended to the disaster area with his lady friend and Clair's advisor following.

"Daisuke!" Coming out into the street, Kyoko and Shun saw the young man about to round the bend out of the alley. Turning, he blinked in surprise. Shun folded his arms. "Where are you going?"

"Just for a walk, Bro..."

Kyoko pointed to something underneath his arm. "You need your gun for a walk?"

"Damn it..." Daisuke shook his head. "I'm gonna return it, okay? It's just that...well, I left my bike and my stuff in Magnagalia and I figured that, while Clair's still okay with me and will let me have the boat, and while the Celestials still have everybody distracted..."

"So you're leaving again." Shun frowned. "Without telling anyone."

"I'll be right back! We should have picked it all up anyway..." Daisuke's face fell. "You're not going to let me go, are you?"

"Daisuke." Kyoko approached him almost timidly. "What does J think of all this? You're leaving him alone again."

"J? I'm taking J. You think _I_ can drive that thing? That boat is crazy." He put a hand into his pockets. "I won't get caught again. I promise."

"But I just don't think it's fair," Kyoko protested hotly, flushing for reasons she didn't want to ponder too deeply. "What about your mother? She hasn't seen you in so long...she really missed you and she might...she might be tired of...of waiting..." The young woman stopped, horribly aware of what she was actually saying but at the same time longing to continue. Daisuke touched her lips with a halting finger; her eyes darted to Shun, but the older man had receded and was looking away, giving the pair some semblance of privacy.

"Don't make excuses," Daisuke said softly, taking her hand and holding it against the pendant on her chest. "If you have something to say, just say it. Like a real man would."

"Woman," she corrected with a faint smile that quickly faded. "And I...I don't want you to leave again. I gave you three years."

"And I've still got two."

"But I lied." Kyoko screwed her eyelids shut and felt moisture beading underneath. Oh, she was going to cry. Perfect. She would look like some sappy idiot just as he left again. "I...I couldn't bear waiting even after three _months_..."

He hugged her close, shocking her eyes open. "I've got you beat," he whispered in her ear. "Three weeks."

"Daisuke..."

Shun turned all the way around, granting the couple the solitude they needed. His own cheeks were tinged with red, but he was smiling. Good for his little brother. Maybe Kyoko would keep him out of trouble for once...

"Shun? Did you find him?" Nona stood in the doorway, one flap of the drapes covering it shoved over her shoulder.

"Give him room, Mother." He led her back into the store, letting the cover swing free. "He needs to be alone right now."

She leaned on him, smiling sleepily; he cursed the three girls, thinking those Kabuki Road hussies had gotten his mother intoxicated. But Nona's eyes and speech were clear. "He's leaving again, isn't he?"

"He'll be back. That's the thing about people who leave. They can always come back."

Her lashes fluttered as she looked down. "Except for those who can't. Those like..."

"It's all right. You did the right thing, Mother." He led her back to the ladder. "Now go celebrate with everyone else. I'll be back down in a minute." Nodding, she climbed on; he turned and peered through the curtains, not wishing to interrupt in case his brother and the young auditor weren't quite finished.

But the alley was empty. They had left together.

Smiling wryly, Shun gave the absent couple and their android captain a small salute, feeling awkwardly like his brother but thinking that perhaps he too could get used to such actions. "See you, little brother. Later." Then, replacing his hands in his pockets, he too returned to the clamor and celebration below the ground. Above them, the citizens of Judoh went about their daily lives as if nothing had happened; somewhere far across the ocean, he knew, another city grappled with an inexplicable event from which some of its citizens might never recover. Yet none of them would ever know what really had occurred either. He and his companions—he and his friends?--were the sole keepers of that secret. And he intended for it to stay that way. Because the past was exactly that—over and done with. Time to roll on, as the world kept spinning.

"Dictator Aurora is dead," he murmured to Phia as she ran her fingers through his hair, adjusted her weight on his lap; three beers could tame even Shogun's feared tiger beetle. "My mother killed him."

o0o0o0o0o0o

Only three men attended the moonlit burial, in the dead of night and unpreceded by funeral rites. The formalities had already occurred in a grand farce; to repeat them would be even more clownish.

Slowly the tallest of the three hauled the coffin out of the ground, deposited it to the side of the hole and made room for the new, unmarked casket to be lowered in by his two fellows. The oldest panted underneath the strain but did not complain; the youngest worked in absolute silence, his face as flawlessly expressionless as the marble of the gravestone. Together, they refilled the hole and let the earth swallow the wooden box whole. The man inside it lay with a peaceful smile on his face: fully disconnected at last.

When they were finished and the elaborate coffin loaded onto a waiting van, the young man pulled a white lily from his tuxedo buttonhole and twirled it contemplatively in his fingers. "What can I say, Papa?" he asked softly, the moonlight outlining his silhouette so even in the dead of night he seemed somehow illuminated. "I've said it all already. I can't say how you were so great like they all did the first time; that would be lying. You weren't great. You weren't outstanding. You made mistakes and you hurt people and you got hurt in return. And for what? For some desire you could never have but you chased anyway. What an idiot."

He smiled, not without a wistful bitterness. "But you know something? This whole world is populated by plenty of idiots, yet somehow it holds together. I'm still figuring out how that works. So I guess it's okay that you fouled up so badly.

"After all, you were only human." Kneeling, he placed the lily on the golden nameplate on the headstone, then bent even further and gently kissed the shining gold. "You're human, Papa," he whispered. "For better or worse. And I love you."

He remained crouched in submission at the tomb for a moment longer; then, straightening and tugging out his suit, the young man turned to his companions. "Giovanni, Mauro. Let's go."

"Right, Vampire." The tall man slung an arm around his employer in consolation; the don brushed it off. He did not need such comforts. He could stand, at last, perfectly well on his own.

Together the three descended from the grassy hilltop and back into the bustling, brilliant streets of the city. There was a new day to face, new problems to overcome. Life was just that: a living, pulsing, always moving experience. It was not like a machine. It could not simply, in the face of disaster, shut down.

It was a full moon that night, lending the world its borrowed brilliance; somewhere in the distance, what sounded like a wolf howled, followed by an ecstatic, girlish, wordless shout: the simple unadulterated joy of _being_ and of being with one the hollerer loved.

In that instant, she spoke for her friends as well.


End file.
